What Time Can't Heal
by ejzah
Summary: After eight years of trying to forget Jeanne realizes she must come to terms with what happened between herself and Tony.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello everyone, so I know that by all rights I should not be starting a new story while I have one unfinished but this wouldn't stop bugging me. First off, this is a Jeanne fic who I know if not a terribly popular character particularly in the fanfiction world. This story will feature all the other regular characters from the show but will center around Tony and Jeanne.

I came up with this idea after hearing that Jeanne would be returning to NCIS this season. Ever since my little mind has been running rampant with potential plots/reasons and since I never really minded her character and actually enjoyed when Tony was with her (side from the whole lying/undercover business which kinda doomed their relationship from the start) this story seemed destined to be written.

In All the World

Jeanne walked towards the NCIS visitors' desk, her steps faltering as she remembered the last time she entered this building. Eight years ago when her anger was interspersed with great waves of sadness, when she was still grieving for her father and she wanted to make the man she loved hurt just as much as she did.

She sucked in a breath to temper the sudden onslaught of feelings. It was just a building, bricks and glass, that could not hurt her and this time she was hear of her own accord. She had control on her side and no matter what happened, even if it turned out that Tony no longer worked here or she was escorted from the building by armed guards, she was in control.

With that thought in mind, Jeanne straightened her shoulders and calmly approached the guard who spared her a weary if not completely bored glance. Apparently standing watch for a federal building wasn't a riveting business. She'd already been scanned with one of those wand things and thoroughly checked for weapons at the door so perhaps he viewed her as a minimal threat. The guard at the front desk, Officer Simms she noted as she stopped before him, didn't offer a greeting, simply raising an eyebrow and asking in a terse voice.

"Name?" Jeanne smiled pleasantly into Officer Simms's dull brown eyes.

"Jeanne Benoit." She stated firmly while her stomach dipped and she watched him tap something into the computer in front of him. He glanced up after a few seconds and Jeanne suddenly wondered if there was a picture of her plastered somewhere with a red mark through it like she'd seen on the walls of the floor Tony worked on. Jean Benoit: liar, scorned woman, not to be trusted by men with the initials T.D–

"ID?" Jeanne jumped slightly as she was jolted from her mental tirade and slowly reached into her purse for her wallet as she processed the guard's terse question. Officer Simms stared at her picture for several moments, glancing between it and the information listed on the side and then scanned it through a device that looked somewhat like a credit card machine.

"Alright Ms. Benoit, what is the nature of your business?"

"I need to speak with Agent DiNozzo." Jeanne didn't allow her voice to waver. She was reasonably pleased with how calm she sounded despite her pounding heart. It seemed far too easy, surely someone would recognize her soon. The guard glanced at her again at the mention of Tony and raised an eyebrow as though he was reassessing her.

"Huh? Figures." He muttered, handing back her driver's license. Picking up the phone by his arm, he punched in a number and waited a few moments with the same uninterested expression.

"Yeah, Simms. Got someone who wants to talk with you." Jeanne could hear the faint murmur of someone's voice but Simms let the phone fall back on the receiver without answering. He glanced up again, seemingly surprised to see Jeanne still there.

"Somebody will bring you up in a minute." He said eventually and tossed something onto the top of the desk before returning his attention to the computer monitor. "Make sure you wear that visitor's badge unless you wanna get arrested." Jeanne picked up the laminated tag and clipped it to her blouse, thinking that Simms didn't sound terribly unhappy with idea of her hypothetical arrest.

"Thank you." Jeanne said in a polite tone that she often used when speaking with inexperienced nurses but Simms barely lifted his head.

A minute in Officer Simms's world apparently equaled half an hour in the world of someone who wasn't a surly, security guard. Eventually she was met by an overly eager man who was dressed in a slightly too large brown suit and looked as though he was due to graduate high school at any moment.

"Ma'am." He greeted her happily. "I'm Agent Benson, I'll escort you to Agent DiNozzo." Jeanne gave a brief nod which he apparently took as consent to continue speaking. What commenced was one of the longest elevator rides of Jeanne's life not solely due to Benson's incessant prattling. She was just now realizing what a foolish venture she was embarking on, particularly since she had yet to decide what she wanted to say to Tony. Jeanne's breath hitched loudly but fortunately Benson's excitement adequately covered her nervousness.

"Ma'am. Ma'am?" Jeanne jerked again and found Agent Benson's smiling face peering at her, his features quickly morphing into a concerned expression as she remained frozen in the corner of the elevator. She stumbled out, her gaze unfocused and she barely registered the sound of the elevator door closing.

"Tony, have you seen my adapter?" Filtered over from just a few feet away. Jeanne took a step closer and watched as a tall, thin man rooted through the bottom drawer of a desk but her attention quickly focused on the man to his side.

"Why on earth would I take your adapter? Especially since I don't even know what the hell–Jeanne." His words broke off, her name barely more than a whisper as he finely saw her.

"Oh I don't know, maybe because you have the sense of humor of a…oh." The thin agent had looked up as well it seemed and Jeanne spared a brief glance to see that he was staring unabashedly, his head swiveling back and forth between them. She returned her attention to Tony who was staring at her in complete shock, all traces of humor and cockiness wiped from his face.

"Tony." Jeanne wasn't certain if it was a greeting or simply a way to gain his attention, but he sucked in a short breath and quickly blew it out.

"Jeanne…" He shook his head a few times, perhaps thinking that she might disappear in the brief moments when his eyes were turned away. "Jeanne, what are you doing here?" Her name tripped off his tongue as though he had never stopped saying it and Jeanne briefly wondered if he had reason to use it in the past eight years. Jeanne cleared her throat, looking into his green eyes long enough to see the vulnerability he couldn't quite hide before she quickly averted her gaze to the space above his shoulder.

"Um, I'd like to talk." She said in a low voice, conscious of the other agent who was still watching them with a raptness usually reserved for derailing trains.

"Ah, I…Jeanne…" Tony shoved a hand through his hair in lieu of finishing his sentence.

"Would someone like to tell me what's going on?" Tony was rescued from his stammering by the intrusion of a third voice, this one female. Three pairs of eyes turned towards the owner, a young blonde woman, standing behind a desk opposite from Tony's with her hands on her hips, her confused expression forming a wrinkle between her brows.

The agent beside Tony looked as though he'd forgotten anyone else was in the office and stared at the blonde agent for several moments and then began stuttering incoherently. Meanwhile Tony had schooled his expression into something more controlled, although Jeanne noted that his jaw was tightly set as though he was keeping something from bursting through.

"Ah, Ellie…um, how about a coffee break?" The thin agent squeaked out, apparently hoping to sound suitably offhand as he all but ran towards the blonde. He grabbed for her arm, but she pulled back with a frustrated expression.

"McGee, what is-"

"I'm sure Gibbs ran out like half an hour ago." McGee continued in a loud voice that completely over road Ellie's mild tone while he placed a hand at her back and began shepherding them both towards the elevator.

"And I don't think anybody got Abby any Caf-Pow today…" McGee's voice was taking on a definite hysterical tone the more he talked, his need to escape apparent. Jeanne would have laughed if she wasn't certain that she was reason for the other agents' hasty departure and the overwhelming tension in the room. Throwing a final look over his shoulder, McGee shoved a still protesting Bishop into the elevator and stabbed the down button.

Jeanne glanced at Tony who was now staring blankly at the top of his desk, one of his hands clenched into a tight fist atop a now scattered stack of papers.

"Well, I guess that means you told them about me." Jeanne said, not quite able to inject the humor she'd been trying for into her tone. Tony shook his head again.

"Jeanne…" It sounded like a plea, although for what Jeanne wasn't certain. Was he asking forgiveness, praying that she would simply disappear?

"So, you never answered me, would you like to get some coffee?" Tony let out a sharp sound that couldn't quite be considered a laugh for its pained, humorless quality.

"Oh, that sounds awesome." He responded bitterly, the sarcasm a welcome sign to Jeanne who didn't know what to do with this emotionless Tony. "Then maybe we can share pictures from the last eight years and have a really good time."

"Tony." Jeanne admonished quietly and he closed eyes, looking contrite as he took a deep breath.

"Fine, let's get coffee." He allowed eventually, his demeanor calm now but also resigned. Jeanne watched as he shut down his computer and then with long-practiced efficiency gathered a badge and gun from his desk drawer and secured them at his waist beneath his suit jacket.

It reminded her so strongly of the night that they were held hostage, before everything imploded that she had to fight the urge to gasp. She could see the moment when he reached for his gun outside the morgue, something that she had no time to fully analyze at that time, as though it had just happened. He'd shot someone then. Her crazy, movie-loving, sweet Tony had used a gun as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Jeanne?" She jerked back instinctively as Tony reached for her arm. He was watching her with concern and Jeanne realized he must have been speaking to her for several moments. "Are you alright?" Tony asked hesitantly, his arm still extended, hanging somewhat awkwardly mid-air. He seemed to consider touching her again but instead shoved his fingers through his short hair in an anxious gesture and glanced over his shoulder at the mezzanine that overlooked the office.

"Come on, we'd better go before–"

"Before what?" Jeanne interrupting, thinking that Tony sounded rather like someone who was facing a nasty but inevitable root canal in their near future. Tony didn't answer immediately, choosing to look above them one more time. At last he turned back to Jeanne with his jaw set again and made an ushering gesture towards the elevator, this time without actually making contact with Jeanne's arm.

"Let's just say that certain members of this agency would be less than pleased to see you here." Tony answered finally. Jeanne didn't bother to ask if he included himself in that group of people. With a sigh she headed back for the elevator where Tony was waiting, his rigid spine and tapping fingers the only signs that he was feeling anything more than displeasure at her presence.

A/N: So, for those who have decided to give this a try I'd like to say thank you and point out that I have no real knowledge of Federal building security, if it wasn't obvious, but I assume it would be much more stringent than what I describe given that they don't even allow tours in the real NCIS building. That said, I needed a way of getting Jeanne in the building, so voila.


	2. As Time Goes By

A/N: Hello again, it's been a little while. Hope you haven't grown too annoyed with me. Anyway, here is the second chapter of this story which is once again titled after something from _Casablanca._ Hopefully you won't find it too cheesy, but I couldn't help myself. For those who are interested in my other stories, I will be working on them soon, I promise. :)

Replies to reviews: First of all thanks to everyone who has favorited, followed and reviewed this story. It really warms my little heart (and it probably is pretty little since I'm only four foot nine). To Andi, MHL, and VG LittleBear I am very excited for Jeanne's return as well and hopefully it will be a good arc.

Thanks to Acrwdof1, VG LittleBear, and Guest for your comments regarding protocols for visitors to a federal buildings. As mentioned I was hedging on the fact that the guard might assume Jeanne was one of Tony's lady friends.

VG Little Bear: Yes, Benson and Simms are OC's. If there are already characters with these names in the NCIS world I am not aware of it and will change the names post haste. Not sure if they will return.

Guest: I have not seen any pictures showing Jeanne with a wedding ring but I have been trying to hold off on looking at too many spoilers lest I hype myself up too much. A few weeks ago I had a stress dream about what was going to happen on several CBS shows and decided that I'd been thinking about them just a wee bit too much. Oversharing aside, what I write is most likely going to greatly differ from what the official writers of NCIS create.

Disclaimer: Well, I own three seasons of Criminal Minds now, so yay, but still no NCIS.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.

As Time Goes By

In reality McGee and Bishop's elevator ride did not lead them to coffee but rather ended abruptly one floor from their own and upon the doors wooshing open Time unceremoniously grabbed Ellie's arm again and shoved her into the first empty conference room he found, glancing around suspiciously the entire time. Ellie watched Tim close and lock the door with an urgency that usually followed someone spilling Gibbs' coffee or forgetting Abby's Caf-Pow…basically anything that got in the way of the team's various caffeine addictions.

"McGee!" Bishop protested again, fixing him with a look that was clearly questioning his sanity.

"That was close." He said, exhaling loudly while he tilted his slightly so he could peer through the tiny window in the door.

"McGee, who was that woman and why are we hiding out in the dark?" McGee glanced up at the ceiling lights as though he'd only just noticed that they weren't on and flicked the switch. Bishop looked pointedly at his current position, plastered against the door, and he straightened self-consciously.

"Ellie, you really, really don't want to know." He warned her, shaking his head vehemently, but she persisted.

"Try me." Ellie said in a hard tone that made McGee profoundly sorry for Jake on a bad day. He looked around desperately for an excuse and pressed his ear to the door.

"Oh, you know what, I think I hear Abby–"

"Hmm, I wonder what Gibbs would think of Tony's visitor, I should go tell him." Bishop made a grab for the door which McGee quickly intercepted, once again plastering himself to the surface.

"No! Ellie, you can't." McGee begged, grabbing her by the arms once again apparently in the hope of stopping any further attempts to escape. Bishop merely raised her eyebrow and after holding her gaze for ten seconds, Tim quickly caved.

"Fine." He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "So, Tony kind of dated Jeanne for a while." Tim delivered the words with the air of a man telling Gibbs Starbucks was going out of business.

"And I'm guessing it didn't go well?" Ellie asked, her expression clearly questioning why Tony's former girlfriend had McGee running scared.

"You could say that." He hedged and then at Ellie's disdainful expression quickly added. "She was also the subject of an undercover op he was running." Bishop's mouth fell open for a second.

"Oh, that's not good." She said, sounding slightly in awe. McGee nodded sagely, his panic having mostly evaporated given the opportunity to disperse some good gossip.

"Tell me about it." After a few moments of silence Bishop unexpectedly poked him in the upper arm.

"Ow, Bishop!" He whined.

"Why haven't I heard anything about this before?" Ellie asked, sounding suitably annoyed. McGee glared at her for a moment while he rubbed his arm.

"It happened years ago, around the time Gibbs retired." Ellie gasped dramatically.

"Wait Gibbs retired, when?" Tim swore sharply.

"Oh man, I'm dead." He moaned to himself.

Jeanne stared, once the shock and panicky nervousness had fled she couldn't help herself. At first she hadn't noticed it so much, with his voice, so shockingly familiar and those green eyes that stared back into hers as though they had never stopped, she thought he hadn't changed at all. Now she realized, slightly shocked, he looked older. It was silly really. Of course he was older, nearly a decade had passed. It was natural for there to be new lines around his eyes and for his body to be a little less lithe than it was before.

She realized after another minute of unabashed staring that it wasn't so much his physical appearance as his demeanor that surprised her. There was a guarded quality to those bright greens eyes now that hadn't been there all those years ago. Weariness engulfed his entire body. Jeanne briefly wondered if her sudden appearance was the reason behind it all but quickly brushed it off. The shock of seeing her had most definitely not put deep shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes.

"Jeanne, why are we here?" Tony asked suddenly and Jeanne jumped at the unexpected sound of his voice.

"I wanted to talk." Tony let out an incredulous huff of laughter.

"Talk. You want to talk?" He deadpanned. "Let me tell you Jeanne, if you wanted to whale on me for a while you didn't have to buy me coffee first."

"Do you really think that's why I'm here?" Jeanne asked quietly, curious to know if he actually thought she'd go through all this just for a chance to yell at him. Tony shrugged nonchalantly, or as much as his faux-relaxed posture would allow him.

"Based on past experience, I would say that it's a likely scenario."

"You think I'm that petty?" She asked, knowing she shouldn't feel hurt but helpless to stop his bland tone and pointed words from affecting her.

"I think you've earned it." Tony responded lightly, stirring his drink with a dedication that a large hazelnut coffee didn't merit. Jeanne was glad to note that at least his taste in beverages hadn't changed.

"I'm pretty sure that falsely accusing a man of murder used my free pass for a temper tantrum." Jeanne said with deliberate evenness. It was worth it to see Tony's head pop up in surprise.

"Wow, well aren't we being candid today?" Tony observed, his tone bright despite the expression that clearly said this particular topic was not welcome.

"Like I said, I just want to talk." Jeanne said, realizing that if she allowed him Tony would keep deflecting her questions with the same ease with which he held his damn gun. "It's been a while…" She sighed. "And we didn't exactly part at a good place." She squirmed uncomfortably. Tony gave her a grin, the one that stretched across his entire face and used to dazzle her with its delight, but today didn't reach his eyes and made him look every bit the hardened agent he was purported to be rather than a mischievous professor.

"Mm, well I hope this has been everything you hoped and dreamed it would be." Tony offered with a finality that suggested the conversation was over. He plucked up his now empty cup and blindly tossed it towards the closest trash can with a quick, fluid movement, before rising to his feet. "Now if you'll excuse my boss barely tolerates me when I'm working let alone when I take unauthorized coffee breaks."

Jeanne grasped his arm just as he turned to leave and he stared down at her hand warily as though it might suddenly sprout fangs.

"Have coffee with me next Tuesday." She saw Tony begin to object and she interrupted him before he'd gotten a single word out. "We don't have to come to the same place or anything…please." Tony sighed and ran his hand over the top of his hair again.

"Fine, I can manage about twenty minutes around 10:30." Jeanne nodded, not really sure what to say now that she'd made an appointment–date?–with her ex-boyfriend.

"Thanks." She decided would do. "I'll see you then." Jeanne realized she was still clutching his forearm and squeezed it somewhat awkwardly before letting go. Tony gave no indication that he'd heard her, having turned his attention to his phone, and after a few more moments she turned to leave.

Eventually Tony looked up from the archived texts he'd been reading in favor of actually responding to Jeanne and watched her retreating form head for the café's exit. He sighed. It appeared he'd be having some dental issues in the near future.

After about twenty minutes, McGee decided enough time had passed that they could safely return to the bullpen without either experiencing Tony and Jeanne's inevitable blow up or incurring Gibbs' wrath at finding two-thirds of his team missing.

"So, was he actually in love with her?" Bishop mused as they peered around the cracked door on the off chance that Gibbs should walk by. She found the whole Jeanne situation incredibly intriguing especially when she considered what she knew about Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. To a certain extent she supposed it made sense that the sometimes cocky but often unsure man would fall so hard for a woman despite the inevitably disastrous outcome.

"Ziva thought so." Tim replied cryptically. He made a motion with his hand and they started back down the hall towards the elevator.

"And what did you think?" He stayed silent for so long Bishop was certain he wasn't going to answer her but then he sighed, his thin shoulders slouching inwards.

"I honestly don't know. I mean at first we thought she was just one of the many, many women he talked about back then." He frowned at the disapproving look Bishop gave him. "Don't look at me like that, you didn't know him then. He was always 'dating' a different woman every other week and bragging about his awesome nights in great and often graphic detail. It was hard to think of Tony settling down for any woman." McGee was silent for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "Although this was before we knew that he'd been engaged." He acknowledged.

"Was he really that bad?" She asked quietly, finding it hard to reconcile the man who hid his relationship with Zoe from them with the oversharing playboy McGee described.

"It seemed like it at the time, but I guess in retrospect it was probably just a lot of big talk to cover up how lonely he felt. I mean when he was with Jeanne they were always talking or he was disappearing to see her under the guise of doctor appointments and crap. He was with her way more than necessary to sell his cover. Ziva was sure he'd gotten the plague again, actually a little bit funny since Jeanne's a doctor." Bishop's eyes narrowed, clearly not sharing his amusement, and he cleared his throat nervously.

"Anyway," He continued hurriedly while he punched the up button for the elevator several times. "He never really told us anything specific about Jeanne, which might have had something to do with the fact that he was undercover but he didn't even brag about the sex. Well, not purposefully at least."

"Well, there's a sign of love if I've ever heard one." Ellie muttered sarcastically.

"You know how Tony is. He even planned a vacation for them, although I don't know how he thought he'd ever get Gibbs to sign off on the time." Tim punched the button for their floor.

"I thought you said he was in Mexico for four months, it seems like he'd be pretty understanding if Tony needed a break. And I got the idea Gibbs was a lot more easygoing in those days." Tim scoffed.

"I don't know if you've noticed this, Ellie, but Gibbs is more of a 'do as I do unless I say not to do it and even then you still might get a headslap because I feel like it' kind of guy."

"You never answered my question, you know." Ellie reminded him as the elevator car slowed to a halt.

"I gave you a very in depth and informative answer." McGee countered, slipping through the now open elevator doors.

"But you never said–"

"Oh crap, Gibbs is gonna kill us." McGee whimpered as he surveyed Tony's empty desk.

"I didn't really think he'd go with her." McGee murmured in a shocked and slightly awed voice.

"So what, you thought they'd have a serious and most likely very personal conversation right here in the bullpen?" McGee thought that perhaps Ellie had been spending a little too much time with Tony; his penchant for sarcasm was clearly rubbing off on her.

"Yeah, but at least he would be relatively safe up here." Tim was already imagining how they would find Tony's disassembled body parts in the next few months. Maybe it would take even longer, Jeanne was a doctor after all, who knew what she could do with chemicals.

"Come on McGee, she didn't look particularly nocuous to me, I hardly think she's going to harm him." Bishop assured the other agent. "If anything, she looked a little sad."

"Oh sure, you weren't there when she accused him of murdering her father." McGee said, shaking his head at Bishop's naivety.

"Wait, what?" McGee stopped his pacing at Ellie's exclamation, seeming to realize that he had once again said more than he intended.

"It's ok, he was cleared of all charges." Tim assured her quickly. Bishop held up a hand.

"Wait, so Tony's undercover girlfriend whom he accidentally fell in love with said he murdered her gun-running father?" Bishop let out a sound half-way between a laugh and a sigh, thinking this situation couldn't get any weirder. "This wasn't the same time he was arrested for chopping off somebody's legs, right?" McGee took a moment to look up from his quickly unraveling nerves and frowned.

"No, why would they be related? That was a completely different case."

"Silly me." Bishop muttered as Tim went back to his pacing. The sound of the elevator doors opening and closing had them both glancing up.

"Oh, thank god." McGee said rather fervently as Tony strode to his desk. "Where were you?" He demanded, sounding quite a lot like Tony when he was worried but trying not to show it. Tony didn't respond immediately, instead choosing to secure his gun in the desk drawer.

"Just went to get some coffee, McGee." Bishop took a step towards the pair but McGee made a discreet waving motion to hold her back. He missed her very obvious eye roll and increasingly frustrated expression.

"So, everything's ok?" Tim questioned hesitantly, as though he really didn't want to know but thought it was one of his duties as third highest in command.

"Everything's just peachy, Probie." Tim nodded and started to turn but stopped with an expression that suggested he was about to practice some major martyrdom.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about–"

"You can talk on your own time, McGee." Gibbs drawled as he breezed in with his normal cup of coffee. "Dead Navy SEAL in the Potomac, gear up." Tony and McGee had never looked so relieved to hear there was a dead body waiting for them. Bishop shook her head at the two while she gathered her bag and could be heard muttering something about 'men' and 'communication problems' which the other agents happily ignored.

A/N: Should anyone be worried I do not intend to do any character bashing in this fic although at times I might call a few characters on the carpet for their behavior. I also want to assure people that I'm not trying to be too hard on Tony but I do want to be realistic about his character and past as well as how the other characters in the show view him.


	3. Lock Your Horns

A/N: Why hello there, how's it going? Thanks for all the lovely reviews (which I will get to in a moment), follows and favorites.

So, I saw the preview for the first episode with Jeanne, I heard that it should be a multi-episode arc. Assuming that you all have seen it as well, I'm gonna reiterate that this fic will not be much like the actual episodes. Hopefully though, you'll continue reading even when this story far outlasts Jeanne's appearances on the show.

Now to respond to a few reviews: Scat210: I do agree that Tony had some of his best moments with Jeanne (darn Jenny and her need for revenge). Well, you're predictions may or may not be true for my story.

Darkwirter69: Thanks so much, writing established characters is always so stressful. Tim; however, will not spend the entire story distressed but that doesn't mean I won't have a bit of fun with him. I think part of animosity that you've mentioned stems from a fondness for Ziva. For the purposes of this fic, Ziva is no longer, for lack of a better word, option.

Guest from chapter two: I was not by any means trying to bash Tony. I believe that Tim will always have a slightly less tolerant of Tony's behavior, no matter the reason for it. Since I was telling Jeanne and Tony's history through Tim, it sounded a bit harsher than say if Abby told Bishop. I was referring to other characters when I mentioned carpet calling, although that probably will happen to Tony some too. I feel as though Bishop is a somewhat neutral character since she hasn't seen Tony at his absolute worst or in his more immature days. I've tried to write her as someone who respects Tony and also sees his positive traits without it being clouded by his past.

Thanks again, hope you like this chapter!

P.S. I ran out of Casablanca references for this chapter, I'm sure you are all quite heartbroken.

Lock Your Horns

Tim made a concerted effort to talk to Tony over the next few days. He really did but with the other agent deflecting his questions with sometimes bizarre and occasionally brilliant theories, Gibbs being far too close for them to discuss such a sensitive topic and the dead SEAL, which turned out to be a more intricate then originally assumed, it never quite happened.

So it was with a slightly guilty conscience that McGee filled out his report Tuesday morning, detailing exactly why Sergeant Daniel Caedon had felt the need to smuggle 300 pounds of smoked Gouda aboard his ship and how it had led to his death. Tony sat right beside him, undoubtedly filling out a similar report although with perhaps a little more flare since the man had discovered the cheese in his own very unique way and because, he was Tony after all.

Tim supposed he could just walk over there and say 'Hey Tony, how's it going, I really liked how you found that cheese. By the way, what happened with Jeanne last week?' He could do that, but then again Tony did seem rather busy and Gibbs might come at any moment and Ellie was just across the room. He probably shouldn't chance it. With a slight nod and a mental congratulatory pat on the back, McGee decided that he would ask Tony to get lunch with him and under that carefully crafted guise would spring the question.

"Be back in a bit." It took a moment for Tony's words to filter through Tim's brain and by then the other agent had already crossed to Gibbs' desk and dropped his presumably completed report in the overloaded in-box. McGee noted that Tony had grabbed his gun and badge and had his suit jacket draped over one arm.

"Where are you going?" Tim blurted out before he could stop himself. Tony turned slowly, his eyebrows raised.

"Coffee, McMother." He responded lightly. "Did you want something, can't promise they have sprinkles."

"I'll come with you." Tim said, thinking that it would be the perfect opportunity to speak to Tony without any prying ears. He began reaching for his own gun but Tony waved his hand nonchalantly.

"I can manage, McGee. Besides, you know how Gibbs gets when more than one of us leaves." He didn't give Tim a chance to reply, already heading for the elevator as he called, "Last chance, Probie, Bishop." Neither agent answered so he shrugged and stepped through the elevator doors.

"Did he seem weird to you?" McGee demanded the second the doors closed. He turned towards Bishop who had not looked up through the entire conversation, keeping her attention on her computer screen. Even now she barely glanced up at Tim.

"Tony? No, he didn't seem weird to me at all. Now you on the other hand…" Tim narrowed his eyes at Bishop's downturned head.

"Ellie, this isn't funny." He insisted, frustrated by Bishop's continued lack of concern. "Something's going on, I know it. He's been acting…different ever since–" Tim paused and cast a wary glance around the room and lowered his voice. "Jeanne showed up." Bishop sighed and pushed back from her desk.

"He doesn't seem any different to me, McGee."

"When was the last time he played a prank on me?" Tim asked with the air of one presenting evidence to a jury.

"Not that I really keep track of it, but I'd say at least two months."

"Exactly!" Time exclaimed as though he'd proven his point extraordinarily well. "If he was behaving normally then Tony would've superglued something to my desk way before this."

"Tim, she came here less than a week ago. I highly doubt that it's related to Tony's mature behavior or that we need to be worried about him."

"Oh you just wait, he'll start being all responsible all the time, stop making jokes." Bishop frowned at McGee's prediction and swung herself up on to her desk, sitting in a cross-legged position.

"So, you want him to be immature and drive you crazy?" McGee slapped his hand down on her desk in a movement that was perhaps meant to be Gibbs-esque but simply made Tim look slightly manic.

"Yes. I mean no, of course not! But this is Tony, it's not natural for him to be serious all the time."

"I hate to disagree with you, but he's made at least three different jokes and movie references today alone."

"And then he'll start getting distracted and then Gibbs will notice and then it will be up to you and me to fix it." Bishop waited until Tim's tirade had ended, watching as paced the room, gesticulating wildly as spoke.

"Tim, his performance at work has been fine, I mean he did find the cheese. We both were sure it was a lover's spat." Tim sighed, yet again, and slowed his pacing, coming to a stop near Tony's desk.

"Maybe you're right, I mean if something was wrong Gibbs would've caught on before now." Absently he began fiddling with the notes on Tony's desk, slowly shredding a yellow post-it.

"You know if Tony notices you messed with his stuff, and he will notice, you won't stop hearing about it for at least a week." McGee instantly jumped back and dropped the sticky note, his eyes roving over the mess of papers to make sure nothing was out of place. He startled when a sudden beeping noise filled the room and after a moment grappled for his phone.

"Oh man, I totally forgot I was supposed to go pick up those test results for Abby. Ellie, you have to go instead. Please? She'll know something's up as soon as she sees me and then it'll only be a matter of time she gets it out of me and then Tony and Gibbs will both kill me." Bishop refrained from rolling her eyes only because she knew McGee's predictions were all too likely. Abby would take one look at him, make a mention of dissolving chemicals and half an hour later the entire Navy yard would know about Tony and Jeanne.

"Fine, but I still think you're overreacting." Bishop said, grabbing her jacket from over the back of her chair and hoping that she had a better poker face than McGee.

Once Jeanne had left the café and headed for her car, it dawned on her that she had absolutely no way of contacting Tony and hadn't confirmed where they'd be meeting. She was almost certain that he wouldn't have the same number as when they were dating and it seemed unlikely that calling him at work would get her anywhere.

So it was with a slight amount of apprehension that she lurked on the street across from the Navy yard, hoping that Tony would show up at the time they'd agreed upon. It was a quarter after ten and she noticed a few besuited men eyeing her suspiciously and she gave them a weak smile before they turned their attention back to their phones. She glanced at her watch again, wondering if perhaps she should push her luck and hope that Officer Simms was on duty.

"Jeanne." She spun around, the tails of her coat twirling slightly as she turned to face Tony. She studied him for a moment, noting that his expression was only a little less closed off than the last time they spoke. He looked good. His hair was neatly styled and he wore a black dress shirt beneath a dark suit jacket and pants that clung to his broad frame and accentuated his tan skin. Tony DiNardo had certainly never dressed this way.

"I wasn't sure you'd come." Jeanne said eventually. Tony shrugged, hunching his shoulders against a bitter blast of wind.

"I said I would." He offered as though that closed the matter.

"So where are we going?" Jeanne asked after they began walking, Tony leading the way. They'd been walking for a few minutes in silence, her question going unanswered, when Tony abruptly stopped and turned to face Jeanne.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, and believe me I am, Jeanne, can we just get on with whatever it is you have to say or want?" Tony said, his voice painfully bitter.

"I told you I just want–" Jeanne began in a soft voice, stunned by Tony's sudden outburst. It honestly scared her a little. It reminded her of how different he was from Tony DiNardo and of the times when she unknowingly saw a glimpse of Tony DiNozzo.

"I know, you want to talk. About what though, the great times we used to have?" Tony interrupted, his voice rising in volume as he spoke. "Or how I lied to you and broke your heart, does that sound like something you'd like to talk about?" Jeanne felt her fingers tighten into a fist of their own accord and had to forcibly loosen each one and press them flat against her thighs. Tony was baiting her, she knew it but couldn't stop the pain his words caused.

"Let's discuss how we talked about moving in together and told each other we–"

"Tony, do you really want to do this here." Jeanne whispered quietly, forcing herself to maintain control despite her pounding heart and the moisture threatening to coat her lashes. Tony's eyes tightened and he let out a mirthless laugh.

"You're the one who wanted to talk, I'm just trying to make you happy."

"Tony, stop." He closed his eyes at her quiet plea, the cruelty and hardness melting from his features just as suddenly as they'd appeared. She saw his chest heave and he sucked in an unsteady breath.

"I don't think," He began slowly. "This isn't what you need, it won't fix anything." Jeanne studied him for a moment, downtrodden expression and hunched shoulders. He looked neither the playboy nor the controlled federal agent now, but rather a man who was waiting for the next punch to be thrown.

"Tony, I'm not here to exact retribution or make either of us relive…the past." Tony stiffened when she paused. "I just need to–" The ringing of Tony's phone blithely cut her off and Jeanne felt thoroughly frustrated even though she had no idea how she planned to finish that sentence.

"DiNozzo." Tony barked into the mouthpiece and Jeanne felt sorry for whomever was on the other end. He listened for a few moments, running his fingers through his wind-blown hair but not looking entirely surprised by whatever was being said. "Uh-uh. Yeah Bishop, I've got it. Tell McWorrywart to take a couple of antacids, I'll be there in ten minutes." With that he jabbed the disconnect button and shoved his phone back in his pants pocket.

"Well, it looks like we'll have to cut this little shin ding short." Tony said, a bit of sarcasm reemerging as he gestured in the direction they'd come from. At this rate it would be Christmas before they got around to having a real discussion she thought as Tony set an impressive pace for their walk back.

They were just rounding the corner of the street across from Navy yard when Tony paused again and dug something from his coat pocket. After a moment Jeanne realized it was a pen and scrap of paper. He scrawled something across it in bold strokes and then shoved it unceremoniously into her open palm.

"This is my work cell so if you call more than three times a day they'll start asking questions. If you need something, text. And unless you want to spend some quality time with Leroy Jethro Gibbs and the CIA's finest I suggest you keep your presence at NCIS to a minimum.

With that Tony marched off, leaving a slightly gaping Jeanne with one Special Agent's cell number and the beginnings of a pounding headache.

A/N: So this chapter was a little difficult to write. I knew what I wanted to say but couldn't seem to get the words down on paper,


	4. Is There a Doctor in the House?

A/N: Hey everyone, so here we are several weeks and episodes removed from the episode _Saviors._ *If you have not seen the particular episode yet please do not read this section of the author's note. I personally thought the episode was very good despite the fact that it was much less melodramatic than my own version. I loved the way McGee explained the whole issue to Bishop. I kind of wished that the whole Tony/Jeanne thing would be explored more (perhaps Jeanne will return for another episode and grant my wish) but her being married puts a damper on that and all. Anyway, that's my take on it.*

In the time since _Saviors_ I have continued working on this story, although a hectic and stressful situation at work has made writing a bit difficult. However, now I'm on two weeks break so I'm going to try and get some quality writing time in (so long as I don't get distracted by other works of fanfictions and rewatching NCIS). As it is this chapter is sort of a monster for me, I think it's one of the longest that I've written. I've edited the heck out of it and this is what stuck. Hopefully you lovely readers will continue enjoying this story even though it goes way beyond what was covered on the show and is completely AU. And yes, the chapter title is cliché but I couldn't help myself.

Also, for the purposes of this story Tony and Zoe broke up some time ago, Ellie is not currently having issues with Jake (I can't handle that much drama all at once and could honestly deal with one less messed up person on the show) and Gibbs is still dealing with his medical issues but perhaps not as much as on the show. Does that make any sense?

Disclaimer: Oh, I don't think anybody wants me to own any part of NCIS. I couldn't take the pressure.

To my lovely reviewers: DS2010, I am going for a mature Tony who still has a sense of humor. Sydcasy, Tony's behavior has a reason, I can't promise that it will be explained directly, but there is a reason and it should become clearer as we go along. Yellowcallalilly: I'm so glad you like it and it's giving you hope. Hopefully I don't let you down. Ellie is not my favorite character but she has a certain innocence and lack of prejudice, particularly where Tony is concerned, that I find refreshing and surprisingly fun to work with. N: thanks for the support, I don't get the hate either!

Once again, thanks for all your lovely reviews, follow and favorites and thanks for reading!

Is There a Doctor in the House?

Jeanne hurried across the nearly deserted street and headed towards the vintage car idling in front of a diner named Millie's, or as the flickering neon lights proclaimed, Mie's. She reached for the passenger door, only hesitating for a moment before she jerked on the handle. A blast of warm air greeted her along with Tony's shadowed face. He stared at her impassively from the driver's seat, his eyes glinting eerily in the mostly darkened car.

"And how are you doing on this beautiful night?" He asked once Jeanne was securely belted and he had pulled back into traffic. Jeanne wasn't certain if the question was sincere since his voice remained annoyingly neutral.

"Well, I almost didn't come. Which is stupid, believe me I know, since I'm the one who asked you to come here." Tony said nothing. "My god, you are stubborn." She muttered, annoyed again despite her determination to not be affected by him.

"Ah, and now you've hit upon what half a dozen step-mothers, countless headmasters, and a number of superiors discovered over the past thirty-odd years and failed to overcome despite their best efforts." Tony responded in a cheerful tone that held just enough acidity to let Jeanne know he wasn't yielding an inch.

"Tony, can we just have a simple conversation that doesn't end with us bickering?" She waited a beat and then added as an afterthought, "Or sarcasm, or deflection, or jokes intended to distract me?" There was a moment of silence and she wondered if Tony had simply decided not to talk at all. Jeanne glanced towards his profile, expecting to see some sign of anger but instead saw that his cheek was twitching. After a moment she realized he was fighting back a smile.

"Well, Jeanne you just severely limited my options for communication." Tony turned to face her then, a streetlamp glinting off his teeth.

"Tony!" Jeanne gasped as the dim light briefly highlighted his features. In an instant all her frustration vanished to be replaced with concern. "What happened to you?" Tony jerked at her exclamation, momentarily confused as to why she was freaking out. Jeanne reached out automatically to touch his cheek and understanding washed over his face.

"It's nothing." He responded quietly, pulling back from her gentle touch. Jeanne persisted though and carefully brushed her fingertips along his marred cheekbone.

"Pull over." She ordered softly and oddly enough Tony complied.

"I told you, it's nothing." He insisted once he had squeezed into a parking space along the side of the street and put the car into park. With a roll of her eyes which said exactly what she thought of this assessment she turned on the ceiling light. She winced again as the full extent of Tony's injuries were revealed.

"Tony, what happened?" She repeated as she gently grasped his chin, turning his face towards the light glowing through the window. His left cheek was a mass of darkening purple that extended from just below his eye down to the edge of his jaw. Jeanne ran the fingers of her other hand up, following the map of bruises, her skin just barely making contact with his. She paused when he winced just as she reached his hairline. Tony was unresisting as she carefully tilted his head and moved aside the short strands of hair to see two thin gashes along his temple. A bit more probing revealed a raised bump and elicited a strained hiss.

"Mmm, the most serious bruising and contusions appear to be in the temporal area." Jeanne mused, easily falling into doctor mode. "Have you been to the hospital for this?" Jeanne asked not bothering to cover her concern. Tony sighed as though she had just asked an enormous favor of him.

"Yes, our M.E. made sure nothing was broken." Jeanne hands, which had been systematically probing the edges of his temple, came to a halt.

"Your medical examiner is also your doctor?" Tony shrugged unconcernedly at Jeanne's incredulity.

"Not officially, but whenever somebody needs a little patching up then, yeah." He chose this moment to glance at Jeanne and obviously saw her blatant disbelief and a healthy dose of concern. "Honestly if we went to the hospital every time one of the team got hurt during a case the department would be bankrupt." Rather than look reassured, Jeanne appeared slightly ill.

"How often do you get injured?" Jeanne asked hesitantly. Absentmindedly she scraped at a patch of dried blood that remained persistently glued just behind his ear. Well, at least this ME had done a fairly good job of cleaning him up. Blood was notoriously difficult to get rid of once it dried. Tony shrugged again in response to her latest question.

"What can I say, when given the choice between going to jail and fighting the guys with guns criminals usually choose a fight." Jeanne shook her head as she continued to run her fingers over the skin at his temples. Unconsciously Tony leant into the soft caresses while his eyes gradually slid shut. They were quiet for a moment, the moment oddly peaceful despite the current topic.

"So," Jeanne began, her voice sounding jarringly loud amidst the quiet hum of Tony's car. "I'm guessing that night in the hospital wasn't that unusual for you?" Tony tensed a little and for a moment Jeanne thought she had ruined any chances of a productive conversation. For all she knew Tony could pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. Apparently he was too tired to resist as he simply leant a little more into her hand and made a sound caught somewhere between enjoyment and pain.

"Mm, I seem to have a penchant for concussions." He winced suddenly as Jeanne encountered a second, though less severe, bump at the back of his skull. She probed it gingerly, making Tony shy away with a disgruntled expression. "I'm fine though, Ducky says it's only a mild one and I'm not experiencing any of the normal symptoms." Choosing to ignore the fact that Tony had apparently had enough concussive episodes to memorize the symptoms, Jeanne gently asked.

"Ducky?" It wasn't the first time that Tony had mentioned someone he worked with but all the other times he'd said the names as though they were closely guarded secrets which she didn't have the proper clearance to know. Tony smiled slightly with his eyes still closed.

"Our M.E., Dr. Donald Mallard, but he prefers Ducky." Jeanne smiled in return even though Tony couldn't currently see it. It seemed highly appropriate given the bizarre life Tony seemed to live. Only he would know an ME named after a bird and happily submit to his medical expertise. Tony rested his against the back of his seat, sighing as he craned his neck towards the ceiling of the car.

"If I remember correctly when that drug addict nocked you out the only reason I was able to check you out was because that drug addict gun trained on you." Jeanne observed, making the most of Tony's placid demeanor. "So how is it that you're ok with a man who works on cadavers on a regular giving you stitches?" Tony snorted.

"Please Jeanne, they're his patients. He talks to them and everything." For some reason that failed to surprise Jeanne. At this point she would expect nothing less from one of Tony's coworkers. "Ducky barely ever makes me go to the hospital if I can make it down to autopsy. So, the lack of revealing hospital attire and invasive nurses makes up for the ice cold tables." Jeanne found herself laughing at Tony's completely serious expression.

"It's good to know you have your priorities straightened out." She mocked which earned her a bereaved glance that fell just short of Tony sticking his tongue out at her. Jeanne pursed her lips to hold back the smile threatening to burst out again. Silence rained for a few minutes again while Jeanne continued to flake away the bits of dried blood along Tony's hairline

"So what came between your head and the bad guys this time?" Jeanne asked, striving for a casual tone. There was a slightly pained glint in Tony's eyes that made her think that whatever story he might tell was not quite as cut and dry as he wanted her to believe. She'd seen the same haunted look in police officers accompanying their injured partners or helpless victims to the E.R.

"Oh you know, just me being my usual extraordinary Special Agent self." He didn't even give Jeanne time to object before he was speaking again. "Honestly, it all starts with two petty officers and one gunny sergeant. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke I know, but turns out the punchline isn't all that funny." Jeanne didn't comment, but went back to running her hands through the hair at Tony's temples which seemed to calm him. At the very least it didn't appear to be causing any harm and Jeanne found that the feel of his skin against hers grounding. "Anyway Petty Officer, let's call her Johnson and Petty Officer…Baker meet while serving aboard the USS John F. Kennedy. Now it turns out that Baker isn't the most by the book when it comes to fraternization policies and asks Johnson out." Tony paused to use quotations marks and gave Jeanne a significant look just in case she couldn't manage to determine the meaning of 'asking out' in this particular instance. Jeanne rolled her eyes, lifting a hand in a gesture that told him to get on with it.

"Unfortunately for Baker, Johnson is engaged to a gunny sergeant. Very happily engaged and very faithful to her fiancé. Baker doesn't take this news too well and decides the best course of action is to bury his sorrows in a highly illegal bottle of bourbon. Fast forward a couple weeks and Johnson is on leave with the gunny and just around the same time Baker goes AWOL. It seems he tracked her down by calling in a few favors to a tech friend who hacked the GPS on her phone. Baker waits til she goes back to the gunny's apartment alone, breaks in and proceeds to slam her head into a curio cabinet. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, the gunny comes in about five minutes later to find Baker on top of his fiancé with her shirt in one hand and pounding the hell out of her with the other." Jeanne made a strangled noise and Tony paused in his story. "Sorry." He muttered with a contrite look.

"No, no that's ok." She assured him. "Just tell me that he stopped him in time, did Johnson make it?" Tony chuckled darkly, his fists clenching tightly in his lap.

"Oh sure, she's great. She's got a broken nose, two cracked ribs, more bruises than an over-handled peach and enough emotional trauma to make her sucker punch the next guy who gets too close, but other than that she's great." Tony's voice trembled as he finished though Jeanne couldn't tell if it was a reflection of anger or some other emotion.

"So how did this lead to you getting a moderate concussion–?" Jeanne asked, feeling the need to change the topic before she started crying or in Tony's case, hitting things.

"Mild." Tony inserted with an affronted tone." Jeanne rolled her eyes.

"Tony, you clearly have a headache and you've been squinting every few seconds, particularly when the lights are brighter. As a consummate concussion recipient you should know that symptoms lasting longer than thirty minutes are classified as moderate." Tony scowled at her and she quickly added. "You should also know to never argue with a doctor, we have access to enemas and aren't afraid to use them." Tony raised an eyebrow as his face stretched into a wide and more sincere smile.

"Wow, I've received some dark threats in the past but that's downright evil." Jeanne fought back her own smile, happy to see the dark cloud hanging over Tony lift slightly.

"So, what happened?" She asked after a few moments, knowing that Tony probably needed to get this case off his chest before they could talk about anything else. Jeanne also wasn't entirely certain she could sleep in peace without knowing what happened to the Petty Officer. Tony heaved a sigh.

"So the fiancé comes in and once he figures out what's happening, naturally he freaks out. He goes to defend her and pulls Baker off her. Unfortunately for the gunny, the guy's got more muscles than Schwarzenegger and brought along a gun for good measure.

"My god, he shot him." Jeanne guessed, wondering if every case NCIS handled was this horrible. She saw the same terrible violence every shift she worked in the E.R. but there was something entirely different about hearing a blow by blow account.

"Oh no." Tony assured her, sarcasm making a reappearance. "No, he pistol-whipped the guy until he resembled something from a Tarantino movie. Johnson came to and broke a lamp over his head and Baker just kept going. Ten minutes later the police get there and find her trying to keep her lover's head together with her bare hands." Tony sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, a gesture that seemed to increase in frequency depending on his level of stress.

"He's still in a coma. Which brings us back to Baker. He runs off, steals a Rolls Royce, cause if you're gonna break the law, why not go all out and add grand theft auto into the mix. Two hours later, local LEO's find it crashed in a ditch and still no petty officer." Tony paused for a moment to rub at his forehead and groaned almost inaudibly.

"Do you really want to hear this?" He asked, his words muffled by his hands, the palms of which were currently pressed tightly against his eyes. "It doesn't get any better." Jeanne silently pulled his hands away and began gently kneading his temples.

"Yes." She answered simply. Tony shook his head slightly, the movement hampered by Jeanne's palms, and groaned.

"Oh, remind me not to do that again." He sucked in a deep breath and blew it back out slowly. "Fast forward two more days when the case finally made its way to us–apparently the officers on site were too shaken up to remember to call NCIS until then. By the time we were notified, the dirt bag had beaten three more people while trying to rob a liquor store and attempted another carjacking. We tracked him down as he was escaping a woman who didn't take kindly to his charms. Pretty sure he's never going to look at a boing knife the same way again." Jeanne raised an eyebrow which earned another shrug. "It's a rough part of town." Tony explained.

"Anyway, we took after him and since I happened to be closer I had the privilege of tackling him."

"Please tell me he didn't hit you with his gun." Jeanne whispered already calculating if his symptoms warranted a trip to the hospital regardless of whatever protests he might make." Tony shook his head, apparently having forgotten his vow to not move it anymore.

"Nope, nope. Apparently it is a requirement for all alleyways to come equipped with old pipes."

"He hit you with a pipe?" Jeanne exclaimed, her voice coming out much louder than she had intended.

"Well, not as much as he might have liked to. It helped that I hadn't enjoyed breakfast courtesy of Skky Vodka. Alcohol really dulls the senses, you know and I happen to be a pretty good fighter, not to brag. He got in a few blows with the pipe but I br–got it away from him before he could do too much damage." The change in word choice didn't go unnoticed by Jeanne.

"How did you stop him?" She asked, figuring that there was something he thought would not appeal to her lady-like senses.

"Oh, just a commonly known disarming mechanism." He hedged.

"Tony, really? You think that whatever you did to protect yourself is going to bother me?" Tony glared at her for a moment before relenting.

"Fine, I broke his–" Jeanne's stomach sunk with his pause and she thought that perhaps Tony had been right and she wasn't prepared for this.

"What exactly did you break, Tony?" She whispered.

"His wrist." He breathed.

"Oh." She sounded oddly disappointed and Tony turned sharply towards her with an amazed expression. "I thought you were going to say his neck." She explained.

"I'm fairly certain that's not an NCIS approved method of defense." Tony said in a bemused tone. Jeanne made an annoyed sound.

"Just tell me what happened, Tony."

"Well, there's a reason why this guy was in the Marines. Yeah he dropped the pipe when I broke his wrist but he barely paused, just started pounding me into a brick wall." Jeanne felt her heart clench even though Tony was sitting right there in front of her, a little worse for wear but clearly still alive. Unconsciously her fingers move to the back of his head, feeling the risen area, proof of the moment he just described.

"He got his arm around my neck and he just wouldn't let go no matter what I did. I got a few punches in but then everything started turning gray. Then just before I black out I hear something and see McGee standing there with his gun pointed at us." Jeanne's breath hitched in her throat. Tony shot her an impish grin.

"Don't worry, McGee's a good shot. He should be, I taught him after all."

"Did he kill him?" Tony nodded excessively.

"Oh yeah, Gibbs would have smacked him if he didn't. Yup, went right through his forehead and straight out the other side. Ducky says it was almost dead center." Jeanne almost didn't notice the shift in Tony's demeanor from angry and sarcastic to nearly morose.

"When you're that close to a person when they get shot, you can feel the moment the bullet enters them. You feel their body shudder." He paused reflectively as Jeanne stared at him in quiet horror. She could feel his body trembling faintly, the blood rushing more quickly through the veins in his temples. Jeanne could only imagine what was going through his head right now. Death was nothing new to either of them, she'd seen the way he handled his gun and she worked more ER shifts than she cared to remember, but she doubted it was the same as feeling the life leave a person's body.

"Tony–"

"And the blood, that's something else too. You probably know a lot about blood too. It's very messy, very hard to get out of suits, particularly Zenga, I don't know what it is. My dry cleaner really hates me too. Once made a woman cry when I brought one in–"

"Tony, stop." He sucked in a sharp breath and for a horrible moment Jeanne thought he might cry. Carefully she slid her hand down the sides of his face and neck until they rested on his shoulders. Without thinking to deeply about what she was about to do, she leaned in while gently pulling him against her so his head rested against her chest. His entire body shuddered.

"It's been a while since I've been that close to someone when they died." He whispered, his voice ragged at the edges. He laughed, a bitter, harsh sound that startled Jeanne with its suddenness. "And I didn't even like this guy." Tony choked out around another broken chuckle. That admission more than anything saddened her.

"I think it means that you're still a good person." Jeanne whispered against his hair. Tony laughed again, this time more genuinely.

"God, of all people to tell me I'm a good person." He muttered. "This is one of the most bizarre–nah, I take that back, doesn't even come close." Jeanne sniffed a little, mortified to find herself close to tears. They held onto each other until Jeanne no longer felt the prick of tears behind her eyes and Tony's pulse had slowed to a steady rhythm.

"Ok, move over." Jeanne said as she straightened in her own seat. Tony gave her a confused which turned wary when she reached for the keys still resting in the ignition.

"Why?" He asked cautiously.

"Because you're not driving." Jeanne explained firmly. His noise of protest was lost in the wind as she opened her door and headed for the other side of the car. Tony's arms were stubbornly folded against his chest when she jerked his door open, his features drawn into a mulish expression.

"Not gonna happen, Jeanne." She shoved ineffectually at his shoulders, only managing to jostle his broad frame slightly.

"Tony, there is no way that I'm about to let you drive anywhere with a grade two concussion."

"Grade one!" Tony snapped earning himself another glare.

"Tony, please. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you that I could have prevented." Jeanne pled, not feeling even the slightest bit guilty for manipulating him. If it kept him from getting into an accident it was well worth it.

"Fine." Tony said after a moment, his tone acerbic. Once he had moved to the passenger seat he added. "By the way, I haven't been shopping for two weeks so don't have high expectations in the food department."

"I ate dinner hours ago." Jeanne said, slightly confused by the shift in topic and exactly why Tony thought she would be sticking around long enough to check out the contents of his fridge.

"Exactly. And by the time we get to my apartment it will be time for a midnight snack." Tony explained as though it made perfect sense.

"You're ridiculous." Jeanne muttered as she started the car. Tony didn't bother to dispute her statement, simply asking.

"How's Chinese sound?"

A/N: So I realize this is a bit of departure from the previous chapters but I couldn't have Jeanne and Tony meeting for coffee indefinitely. I also wanted to highlight the connection between these two characters and Jeanne's obvious compassion. I also couldn't help but have Tony in a wee bit of pain. Although it may not be stated, I'm going with the assumption that Ducky gave Tony some sort of mild pain killers which explains his relative openness. I am also not an expert on concussions but I've read enough and with a bit of research I believe I've correctly portrayed a moderate concussion.

Don't worry, there's more angst and drama to come in the next chapter. Also, I'll be turning 23 in less than a week so reviews for my birthday? :D


	5. Breakfast at Tony's

A/N: Hello, sorry for the long delay, again. Guess who's got new supervisors at work? Again.

So I've been working on this particular chapter pretty much since I posted the last one several months ago. It's gone through so many changes and grown to gargantuan proportions, at least by my usual standard. Every time I intended to post this chapter, I thought of something else to add or just deleted part cause I wasn't happy with it. Currently I'm on 28 pages so you should get another chapter in the near future.

Although certain aspects may resemble events from the show, most of the chapter has not been influenced directly by recent episodes (meaning I wrote it before I saw aforementioned episodes). I'm not certain if the similarities I see are because the writers on NCIS are being cliché, my own writing is getting better, I have ESP or I'm just crazy. Most likely it's the last one.

For some reason I got really stuck when I read that Michael Weatherly is leaving after this current season and just kept adding more to the chapter as my indecision grew. I keep telling myself I'm not too invested in this show but there I was having stress dreams because my favorite character is leaving.

In any case, Michael Weatherly has brought Tony DiNozzo to life and stuck with it for 13 years despite less than desirable moments on the part of the writers and I am eternally grateful.

Disclaimer: I have no time to own terribly popular shows, I'm an indebted twenty-some year old who has fanfiction to read. Actually made it through all 1300-plus pages of NCIS fanfics on . And now I am sad.

Reviews: Thank you all for your comments and support. Hopefully this chapter and the next will answer some questions and fulfill some of your wishes for the future of this story.

 _VG LittleBear:_ Rest assured, Gibbs is coming soon, in the next chapter which I will attempt to post tomorrow. I'm not quite sure how his injuries will play into this story. Since I wrote the last chapter I have reconsidered some things, but I would like to explain some of Gibbs' less than admirable and friendly behavior. (At least that's how I see him these days).

Let me know what you think and bless you if you made through this horrendously long author's note. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Breakfast at Tony's

Tony woke with an aching head, a fuzzy tongue he usually associated with too much tequila and absolutely no idea what occurred the night before. It had been years since he got so wasted he couldn't remember an entire evening and night. As a matter of fact he'd given up drinking excessive quantities of alcohol a few years ago when he decided that he was way too old for hangovers and drowning his sorrows in a bottle of scotch would either leave him jobless or building boats in a basement he didn't even own.

It took a few minutes for Tony to flush out the events from the day before and even then everything after Tim shooting the hulk wannabe was a little fuzzy. He vaguely recalled Ducky lecturing him on the importance of rest after a violent altercation ("Head wounds are not to be messed with young man. Why I knew a…") which somehow led into a story about the time his mother stabbed the TV repair man with a pair of garden shears and eventually ended with an order to take a day of sick leave.

Reluctantly he rolled to his feet and slipped on a pair of sweatpants. Brushing his teeth was definitely the first order of business he decided and headed for the bathroom, his steps surprisingly well-balanced. After popping a couple Ibuprofen he examined the bruising that arched over his cheekbone and across his temple, not certain if the glow of the lights hanging above his bathroom mirror extenuated the deep purple splotches or not. At least he hadn't broken his nose this time, an experience he was unfortunately all too familiar with. Assessing the rest of his abrasions and carefully avoiding his split lip while he brushed, Tony decided that this was far from the worst injuries he'd received in his many years with NCIS.

From there he headed for the kitchen to put his rarely used coffee maker, some fancy thing Senior had bought during his last visit and presented with his Cheshire grin in full force, to work. As much as Tony liked the finer things in life, the chrome and plastic bit of machinery was a little excessive for a man who enjoyed about one out of ten breakfasts at home. With the coffee maker set and whirring away like something from an old sci-fi show he checked his phone for missed calls.

Fortunately there were none although McGee had sent him a text asking if he was ok. Tony had the instantaneous urge to fire back with 'no' just to see what the probie would do but instead chose to go with the more mature 'yeah, I look like a banana that's been sitting in the sun for too long but I'm good. '.

A sudden noise from somewhere outside the kitchen, the living room he estimated, made him stiffen mid-text. He froze, listening closely for any other sounds. Just when he thought it was his imagination he heard the definite creak of someone walking. Silently he slipped his phone into his pocket and reached for the farthest drawer to his right, removing his spare gun. Automatically he took up a defensive position as he peered around the corner of doorway. There was no one in his immediate view. He heard the sound of footsteps from the other direction and quickly spun, aiming his gun at,

"Jeanne?"

"My god, Tony." Breathed the startled woman. "Who did you think I was?" Tony sheepishly lowered the gun.

"Well, obviously not you." He answered honestly. "Why are you here, by the way?" He added, less sure of himself now that the perceived threat was gone. He knew Jeanne was eager to talk but breaking and entering seemed a little excessive. Jeanne's eyebrows furrowed for a second as she studied him. Understanding flashed across her face and her eyes closed briefly before she nodded.

"You don't remember anything from last night, do you?" Tony gave a hesitant chuckle while on the inside he was quickly panicking. He had absolutely no idea why Jeanne would be in his home at 7:00 in the morning and he noted somewhat worriedly, wearing what appeared to be a pair of his sweat pants and a giant T-shirt. Belatedly he looked down and remembered that he hadn't felt the need to where a shirt himself. He just barely resisted the urge cross his arms over his bare chest. "Don't look so terrified," Jeanne said dismissively. "After we met up last night, we talked for a while and then I drove you home…ringing any bells?" She paused for a moment, apparently giving him time to chime in should he have the urge. Tony pressed his palm against his head, willing his brain to cough up the necessary information.

"You insisted we order Chinese…" Tony's head sprang up slowly, a look of horror spreading across his face.

" _They're the most beautiful, expressive eyes I've ever seen. Like tiny oceans."_

"Oh, god…" He moaned softly. "Please tell me I didn't say anything incredibly weird or inappropriate." Tony begged desperately.

"I thought you liked saying inappropriate things." Jeanne mused, not at all sympathetic to his mortification.

"Yeah, only when I can remember what they were and why I said them." Tony replied acerbically.

"Don't worry, Tony, you were a perfect gentleman." Jeanne assured him. Tony snorted, fairly certain that his name and that particular phrase had never been used in the same sentence before. "You were pretty chatty though." He groaned again and briefly considered using the gun hanging loosely from his fingers to put him out of his misery.

"What did I say?" He muttered against his better judgment and covered his face as though it would block out the embarrassment.

"Well…" Jeanne began, pausing as though to consider what she wanted to say. "You compared me to the Mona Lisa, except you said I was prettier and more mysterious. And you told a very long story about the time your M.E. had tea with the Queen and her favorite Corgi ate his shoe."

"Ugh, that story takes forever even when Ducky isn't telling it." Tony bemoaned. Apparently unconcerned by his imminent death by embarrassment, Jeanne shrugged.

"It wasn't so bad, I especially liked your reenactment of the Queen chasing after the dog and knocking over the footman."

"I'm going to kill Ducky." Tony muttered fervently amidst Jeanne's quiet laughter.

"I thought it was rather cute." Jeanne persisted with a grin. Tony merely glared.

"He knows I shouldn't be around people when I'm on pain meds." Jeanne nodded sagely.

"A likely excuse."

"Hey, it's the tr–" He broke of as he realized that Jeanne was doing her best not to laugh and failing miserably. "Oh you better watch yourself, Miss Benoit, or I won't share my coffee with you." She grinned impishly and shrugged again.

"I like tea."

"Then I'll hide the teabags." Tony persisted stubbornly. Somewhere in their mini-debate he had drawn closer to Jeanne so he now stood roughly six inches away with his head bent towards her, the better to intimidate. Jeanne couldn't seem to wipe the smile off her face and despite his best efforts, Tony found himself grinning broadly as well.

Jeanne closed the last few inches between them and reached out, brushing a hand through Tony's sleep-mussed hair. He froze as her fingers made contact, just barely touching his scalp. Jeanne seemed to realize a second too late exactly what she was doing, quickly pulling her hand back as though she had been burnt and leaving Tony with the feeling of electricity lightly coursing down his spine.

"Your hair was…um…" Jeanne gestured vaguely to her own head which was fairly neat and turned away to hide the blush quickly creeping up her neck. Tony's cheeks instantly burned as well. He felt ridiculous but somehow the simple touch felt entirely too intimate, no matter that he and Jeanne had shared so much more. An awkward silence had descended in the dimly lit room with both of them behaving like teenagers on their first date. Somewhat desperately, Tony grabbed onto the first thought that came to mind.

"I think the coffee's done, I'll make you some tea."

"Ah, no, Tony, I should get going–" Jeanne protested.

"Jeanne, please, it's the least I can do." Tony persisted, determined now, although he couldn't say exactly why, to have her stay. "I'll even make you breakfast." He added when it when appeared Jeanne was still uncertain.

"Tony, you really don't have to do this."

"I know. I want to. Do you like omelets?" Jeanne started to something but then closed her eyes briefly and shook her head.

"Ok, if it will make you happy then why not?" She agreed at last. Tony guessed that she was wondering if he'd incurred some type of brain damage the day before which was affecting his behavior. It was hardly the first time that someone had come to the same conclusion so he didn't take it to heart.

"Good, be ready in twenty minutes." Tony said and pointed in the direction of bathroom. Jeanne's eyes narrowed for a moment before she turned around and started gathering her clothes from around the room.

* * *

It was while Jeanne was standing in Tony's bathroom, half naked and holding her wrinkled sweater that the bizarreness of her current situation suddenly hit full force. She'd just spent the night on Tony's couch and now he was cooking her breakfast while she sifted through his toiletries for a clean toothbrush. Meeting her own gaze in the mirror over the sink, she gave a stern look to her reflection and attempted to reconcile the faint flush tinting her cheeks with the knowledge that this might just be a very, very stupid idea.

Of course she knew that she was being less than logical the moment she'd even thought of stepping foot inside of the infamous NCIS building and; presumably, letting Tony back into her carefully established life. Nor could she say that Tony hadn't done his best to keep her at arm's length which she blatantly and stubbornly ignored.

For unfathomable reason she'd forgotten how sweet and disarming Tony could be when he wasn't trying. The suave, calculating man of the world she could handle, but the one who watched her with such unreserved affection and completely without artifice was so much harder to resist. In those moments the years seemed to melt away and she might as well have been a naïve 20 some year old again. She sighed and shifted aside a pile of medical paraphernalia; bandages, ointment, Tylenol…and an inhaler? Jeanne picked the small, familiar device up, staring at the list of active ingredients with a frown.

As far as she had known Tony DiNardo didn't have any ongoing health problems. Granted, that meant very little but the prescription clearly stated that the medicine should be taken as needed in case of respiratory failure. The dose was strong too and as she looked at the dispenser with a practiced eye she estimated that it was at least six years old if not more. Glancing sheepishly behind her, as though Tony might burst in at any moment, she peeled back the now tacky label and peered at the blurred numbers. There was no way it said…06…wait, no that was a 5.

Jeanne stifled a curse and reminded herself that it wasn't her responsibility to make sure that Tony's medication was in date. No, if he wanted to poison himself that was his business. Firmly she tucked the inhaler beneath a box of bandaids and shoved the neon green toothbrush she found in her mouth, muttering darkly beneath her breath.

Glancing at the clock she noted that she'd been in the bathroom for roughly fifteen minutes. Tony had said twenty minutes and given their previously rocky interaction she wasn't about to upset the relative calm. Hastily she tugged her hair back into a bunch, securing it with a clip before she left to see what Tony had gotten up to in her absence. If she remembered correctly Tony's idea of a home cooked breakfast was a bowl of cereal and coffee; omelets seemed like a bit of a stretch.

As promised when Jeanne wandered back into the kitchen, wearing her clothes from the day before, Tony stood at the stove stirring something in a pan. Tony for his part seemed to have shaken off any lingering awkwardness and was softly humming to himself as he whipped a bowl of eggs. He appeared perfectly at ease cooking breakfast for her in his worn sweats and with a stubbled jaw.

She cleared her throat and Tony turned towards her with a soft smile.

"I hope you like mushroom and onion." He greeted and gestured slightly at the stove with his head. Without waiting for a reply, Tony poured the egg mixture into a pan positioned over a low flame.

"No, that sounds great." Jeanne responded quietly, slightly distracted by Tony's smooth and easy movements, suggesting this was something he had done before. "I didn't realize you cooked." Tony shrugged as he started calmly laying sautéed bits of mushroom and onion along with a healthy dose of cheese on top of the cooking egg.

"Eh, I don't get a lot of practice but I know a few things…it's considered a sin in the DiNozzo family if you can't cook at least one thing for each meal and if one of those meals doesn't include red sauce and pasta I've heard it said the gods cry." Jeanne rolled her eyes as she opened a cabinet, searching for plates, but coming up with a neat row of glasses instead. "Plates are in the top cabinet in the corner, forks in the drawer below it." Tony offered automatically. Following his directions Jeanne grabbed two plates and reached for the drawer he mentioned.

"Ah, on second thought don't open that…" Tony's warning came a second too late. She glanced up at his panicked expression with a raised brow.

"You always keep your gun in with the silverware?" She asked lightly, ignoring Tony's assumption that she would be upset. Tony had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed and the non-bruised portions of his cheekbones flushed softly. He cleared his throat.

"No, usually I keep it under the dish towels." Tony replied in an even tone. Before Jeanne had time to reflect on the significance of a person needing a gun in their kitchen, Tony placed a steaming mug of tea in her hands and gestured to the table. "Take a seat, this will be ready in a few minutes."

"Shouldn't you be worrying about being late for work? It's almost 7:30." Jeanne asked. Tony was back to humming to himself as he flipped a pan full of hot eggs with an easy flick of his wrist.

"Nah, day off. Concussion, remember?" Tony pointed to his head as though Jeanne could forget about his injuries with his black and blue temple taunting her.

"I got the impression that nothing less than the plague would get you out of work." Tony smiled briefly and then shrugged as he plated the second omelet.

"Recently our director has jumped on board the whole danger-of- repetitive-concussions wagon thing."

"How annoying of him." Jeanne inserted. Tony ignored her sarcastic comment and continued as he brought the food over and took a seat at the head of the table.

"Anyway, now we're required to take at least one day of leave following a concussive episode. Ducky is definitely a fan." Tony said. Despite his dismissive tone he didn't seem overly put out by his unexpected vacation. Unceremoniously he cut into his steaming breakfast, brought a forkful to his nose, and sniffed it appreciatively.

"That you can remember." Jeanne muttered under her breath.

"Hey, in time I will remember everything…it may prove extremely embarrassing, but I will remember." Tony replied, punctuating his words with a wave of his fork. They descended into near silence for the next several minutes, the only sounds where of forks clinking against plates and the occasional noise of appreciation. It turned out that Tony was a surprisingly good cook, another thing that never made it into Tony DiNardo's file it seemed.

"Do you want to have dinner with me?" Tony asked as he speared the last piece of egg on his plate. Jeanne choked slightly on a half-chewed mushroom, grabbing her tea which was thankfully only lukewarm and took a large gulp.

"Excuse me?" She gasped out. Tony watched her with mild concern but mostly seemed unfazed by her reaction. The man seemed to live for keeping her off balance.

"Can I take you to dinner?" He calmly repeated once she was safely breathing again. "You know as repayment for making sure my drugged up body made it home without coming to perilous harm."

"Uh-huh, and you get absolutely nothing out of this." Jeanne said. Tony grinned unrepentantly.

"Of course not. It's simply another example of my deeply selfless personality." If anything, his smile grew even larger. It was the same beguiling smile he'd used to lure her away from a difficult shift for a romantic dinner in an abandoned room or convince her to spend just a few more minutes in bed. She appraised the man before her, sleep-mussed hair and all, managing to look elegant though he was slouched in his chair and sporting darkening bruises and barely healed over abrasions. He was so different from the forbidding and acerbic agent of the last few weeks. It was a bit disconcerting but Jeanne would be lying if she didn't admit how much she enjoyed this open and gentler version of Tony.

Jeanne's mother would tell her the obvious answer to Tony's question was 'no' and for good measure suggest she utilize her knowledge of infectious diseases. Of course, Helen Berkley would also be horrified her daughter was involved with Tony at all. Forgiving was not a word that applied to her mother and for some reason that solidified Jeanne's answer.

"Why do you really want to take me out?" Jeanne asked at last, fearing whatever answer she might receive. Or worse, that Tony would rescind the offer. He didn't answer immediately, his attention focused on his coffee mug. Tony finally met her gaze and murmured.

"It would make very happy if you did." Jeanne inhaled slightly at his complete sincerity. She swallowed in an effort to calm her suddenly pounding heart.

"Yes, I would love to, Tony." His answering smile was brilliant.

* * *

A/N: If you all think things changed awfully fast, there's a reason for it. Again similarities between this story and recent episodes are mostly coincidence which is getting really frustrating. Next chapter look for a helping of Gibbs and McGee. Not necessarily in that order.


	6. Holistic Lying

A/N: And now I give you the next wondrous chapter of this story. It's shorter than the last couple but it seemed the best way to split it up. Parts of it were written amongst great stress, while trying to hide from small children.

It's spring break where I work, so bring on the fanfiction!

Disclaimer: Why would I possibly give up my illustrious career for the chance to own NCIS?

Reviews: _VG LittleBear_ : Thanks so much for the kind words. I love hearing that you are enjoying this and my attempts at bringing Tony and Jeanne closer.

 _Dkess_ : I know! Although I loved other moments throughout the years, I never understood why fans of Tony didn't like what Jeanne brought out of him. Undercover junk aside, Jeanne appreciated him for who he was. (Don't know if you were expecting a rant here, hopefully it hasn't scared you away.

Thanks to everyone else who commented and reviewed for the encouragement and lovely words.

Hope you like it and thanks for reading!

* * *

Holistic Lying

Tony DiNozzo wandered into the NCIS bullpen on Friday morning unreasonably content for someone who had been up since six, gotten called in to work early; therefore, missing breakfast, and been stuck behind a car driven by the antithesis of Gibbs for the majority of his commute.

McGee appeared to have arrived just a few minutes before him and was scurrying around distributing coffee like an overgrown and decidedly unfestive elf.

"Hey Tony." The other agent greeted as he deposited a large cup of steaming liquid on Gibbs' desk. "You look better than you did the other night."

"Thanks, McComplimentary." Tony drawled. He dropped his backpack beside his desk, noting a small package wrapped in brown paper next to his coffee that smelled suspiciously like eggs and bacon. Gingerly he poked it with one finger. "What's this?" He demanded, turning towards McGee who was sipping his coffee and reading something from his computer that had his eyes twitching every few seconds.

"It's a breakfast burrito Tony, not a bomb." Tim answered without looking. Tony regarded the other agent suspiciously.

"Am I dying?" McGee snorted a mouthful of coffee. Tony ignored the other agent as he grabbed a napkin and began blowing into it with fervor. "First, you get coffee when it's my turn, and you made sure that it was just the way I like it and now this? The only times we don't bicker and fight like children over getting food when it isn't our turn is when someone has just escaped the jaws of death. Point in case, my recovery from the plague: you offered me Chinese. The day I got stabbed by that psychotic marine: you bought me a hotdog." He pointed to the innocuous package for reference. "So I ask again, am I dying, Timothy McGee? Cause I don't feel like I'm dying." By now McGee had successfully removed most of the coffee from his nostrils and was finally able to speak again.

"Geez Tony, it's breakfast. I thought you might be moving a little slower today and wouldn't have time to stop off for anything. I was trying to be nice."

"Oh. It's freaking me out." Tony said bemusedly. "You sure no one is dying?"

"I don't think you were hugged enough as a child." McGee commented absently and with exquisite disinterest. "And, scientifically speaking, a little bit of us dies every day."

"Way to cheer me up, McGee." Tony said in a faux-hurt voice.

"You're welcome." Tim answered happily. "Now eat your burrito before it gets cold." He ordered as though the older agent were recalcitrant child. Tony narrowed his eyes again as he bit back a smile.

"You poisoned it, didn't you McSwango?" McGee sighed and then shifted to look at Tony, his expression morose.

"Yes, Tony, I put arsenic in the salsa. I just couldn't take it anymore seeing you in those suits every day. My favorite is the gray one, especially when you were it with the black tie." Tony's mouth dropped open slowly at his Probie's audaciousness. He was speechless.

"I wanted to tell you," McGee continued in an infatuated and slightly unhinged voice. "But I knew you'd never see me the same way so I decided if I couldn't have you–"

"Guys?" Unfortunately McGee hadn't noticed Bishop walk in during the middle of his impassioned speech and Tony, still unable to talk although he was now making odd squeaking noises, failed to warn him about the incoming agent.

"Ah, Ellie, that was just, uh…that's not at all what it…" Bishop nodded as Tim stuttered through his explanation. She glanced at Tony, perhaps hoping that he could supply a more coherent answer, but he had one hand clamped on his desk and was slowly turning a fine shade of maroon. Finally he managed to suck in a breath and made his way over to McGee who shrank back with a wary expression. Bishop watched all of this with a vaguely intrigued expression.

"McGee, if I'd only known sooner." Tony gasped out, a chuckle escaping at the end. With a leer he swung his arm around Tim's shoulder. The other man's look of embarrassment was quickly replaced by one of distress and he attempted to edge away as though to escape. Tony only tightened his grip, reaching out with other hand to ruffle Tim's hair. "So many wasted years my McLover." He cooed.

Bishop made a strangled noise which drew both men's attention back to her.

"Hey Bish, how's it going?" Tony inquired sunnily while he stroked Tim's cheek.

"Good." She responded, drawing out the word and clearly still waiting for an answer. In response he smoothed his finger over Tim's lip who apparently had reached his breaking point, jerked away with a distressed sound. Tony could sense that McGee was quelling the urge to punch him and wisely put a few feet of distance between them.

"Very funny, DiNozzo." Tim muttered darkly.

"Aw McGee, what's a little homoerotic petting between friends?" The other man's eyes narrowed again. "Okay, okay." Tony capitulated. "Next time there's a dumpster to be dove into, I will be the divee, deal?" Tim considered for a moment and then quickly shook Tony's outstretched hand.

"Deal." McGee agreed happily.

"Ok guys, WHAT'S GOING ON?" Bishop begged. Tim and Tony shared a brief look of understanding before Tony quickly replied.

"Tim bought me breakfast." He shot Ellie an innocent smile and then walked back over to his desk. She stood in the middle of the bullpen, still carrying her bag, her frustration was nearly palpable as her gaze swiveled between the two men.

"Fine." Ellie concluded eventually, bobbing her head several times. "I don't even want to know." Tony raised his fist and McGee met it with his own at the youngest agent's capitulation. Apparently any ill feelings towards Tony were forgotten the moment Tim had an opportunity to mess with Bishop.

"You know I've been an agent like two years, right? Is it really fair to haze me for this long?" McGee snorted.

"You think this is probie hazing?" He asked incredulously while Tony nodded his head in agreement.

"Ask Tim what he went through as a probie. This is just office camaraderie at its finest." Tony gestured to other man with one hand while he waved his still uneaten burrito beneath his nose as if smelling a fine wine.

"Like it's ever stopped." McGee said derisively, apparently forgetting his own collusion in teasing Bishop.

"Oh come on, McGee…look at you now. Would you be half the agent you are today if it weren't for a little tough love? Besides, when's the last time I glued your fingers to anything?" McGee gave Bishop obviously thought was a discreet look which Tony didn't bother to untangle. "You guys are just lucky you didn't have Gibbs for a training agent. Oh the bruises I used to get during 'training'… went over well with the ladies though." McGee snorted.

"Where is Gibbs?" Bishop asked, interrupting Tim's likely scathing opinion of Tony's charms. "I thought we had a case." Tony shrugged. If there was something important going on McGee would have most likely mentioned it by now instead of chattering on about Tony's breakfast.

"We did but now he's chatting with Fornell's superior in MTAC. FBI wants durisdiction." McGee responded idly. Bishop's response was equally unenthusiastic as she stashed her bag and purse behind her desk and logged on to her computer.

Wordlessly the three agents settled behind their desks without any particular haste. Tim spent a good ten minutes cleaning his computer monitor while Bishop tapped at her keyboard, the action accompanied by the distinct ping of Facebook notifications. Tony for his part unwrapped and picked at his burrito, still giving it the occasional look of distrust. Finally when it seemed none of them could stall any further they turned to the pile of files on each of their desks.

After about twenty minutes of trying and failing to make any progress on cold cases, Bishop decided to head down the Abby's lab, citing the need to discuss a report with the forensic specialist but all three agents knew she was seeking out the futon.

Tony and McGee resigned themselves to half-heartedly skimming a few files they'd all read over a hundred times. Tony tossed aside a file containing a particularly nasty and unsolved serial killer case in favor of rereading the ever amusing interview from an ancient witness who insisted that each of her fourteen cats be questioned as well in case she forgot anything in her statement. He was pretty sure poor Agent Kolonowski had gone AWOL after that case and been found farming in the depths of Southern Indiana four months later.

"You know you're in an exceptionally good mood for someone who was slammed into a brick wall recently." McGee observed, interrupting Tony's reminiscing. He almost sounded annoyed that Tony was behaving like a mature adult. He glanced up from a yellowed page to find McGee watching him with his head inclined.

"I'm sorry that my relative good health is getting on your nerves." Tony replied sardonically.

"You know that's not what I mean." Tim shot back in irritation. "I know you had a day off and everything but I've seen you after a concussion; they make you cranky and loopy."

"Maybe it's the burrito, nothing like eggs and bacon to fill a man's heart with warmth and cholesterol." McGee peered at Tony over his computer monitor with the same intensity he usually reserved for hacking into national databases.

"No, that's definitely not it." Tim insisted, going back to his own file. Tony had to admit he was enjoying the younger agent's frustration, especially since he wasn't even doing anything to elicit such a reaction. At least not on purpose.

"Oh my god!" McGee whispered loudly, his head springing up from behind his monitor with whiplash inducing force and his voice filled with an air of imminent and profound discovery. "You saw her again, didn't you?" Tony tried to keep his expression neutral. Staring unflinchingly into McGee's accusatory glare for several moments before he flipped to the next page and skimmed the hastily scrawled words. Apparently Mr. Puddles thought the suspect had red hair, which contradicted Daisy's account.

"Don't really know what you're talking about, Tim." Tony said lightly with just a hint of warning bleeding through.

"You saw," McGee paused, looking around warily before he continued in a much softer voice. "You saw _Jeanne_ last night." He hissed. For reasons that Tony could not begin to fathom, he looked terribly betrayed. If he didn't know better he would almost think that the other man was jealous.

"Assuming that I did see someone last night, why do you think it was her? It could be any woman; I may be a bit older but with age comes charm and wisdom." Tony preened slightly and batted his lashes at McGee who rolled his eyes.

"Not buying it Tony. You don't do one night stands anymore and in any case I've seen you after a concussion, it's not a pretty sight. And I happen to know you don't have a girlfriend, haven't seen anyone since you broke up with Zoe." Tony pondered that for a moment under the guise of sipping his coffee. Eventually he decided he'd stalled enough and approached McGee's desk, his expression completely serious.

"Tim, do you really want to ask about this? Right now you can still claim plausible deniability."

"Plausible deniability? What the hell are you talking about? You sound like you're on trial." McGee, now truly annoyed, seemed to have forgotten his decision to be quiet and a few heads turned at his last words.

"Thanks McLoudmouth." Tony whispered, his expression making Tim turn a fine shade of magenta and turn surreptitiously to glance around the rest of the bullpen before continuing. "You don't think that Gibbs isn't going to figure out what's going on, if he hasn't already, and when he does do you want to know as little as possible or be the guy that knew but didn't tell him anything?"

"Tony, I don't think–"

"Very unwise." Tim narrowed his eyes at the other man's interruption and continued in a morally superior tone.

"I don't think that Gibbs would be angry–well, I mean he would but only because he cares." Tim frowned, his words trailing off as he obviously realized that he wasn't improving the situation.

"Uh-huh, and how does Gibbs normally show affection?"

"With a headslap." McGee said. "And in this case he'd probably shoot you."

"Yup." Tony agreed, not looking nearly as worried as he normally would in the face of Gibbs' potential wrath.

"Tony I don't think you should try keeping this from Gibbs at all. Like you said, he'll find out anyways and then he'll just be angrier." Tim paused and considered for a moment. "Are you trying to make him mad, because this would definitely do it. You know there's no way he's ever going to be ok with you…doing what you're doing." Tony's jaw clenched and it was a testament to McGee's growth that he didn't shy away. Very much.

"First of all, McGee it's not like I'm hosting orgies in MTAC. Secondly, I'm most certainly not toying with someone's feeling just to make Gibbs mad or get attention or whatever it is you think I'm doing. If I ever would have done something like that, I certainly would never do it now. Thirdly, if Gibbs can't deal with his agents having a life outside of this place or thinks that I'm not capable of making my own decisions then that is his problem and not mine." Although that wasn't entirely true. In the past Gibbs' opinion had meant a lot and to some degree it still did.

Tim seemed somewhat taken aback by Tony's heartfelt, if impromptu, speech.

"Wow, you really are happy, aren't you?" Tim asked quietly and with no small amount of awe. Tony quirked his head, considering.

"Well, I was a few minutes ago. This conversation hasn't done wonders for my mood." He responded acerbically. McGee sighed in a put upon way.

"I mean with her." Tony smiled slightly and answered without thinking.

"Yeah McGee, I am." The younger agent looked shocked, which Tony found remarkably annoying, but then a vaguely pleased smirk appeared on his lips and Tony wished McGee would go back to annoying him. Apparently the other agent decided he'd pried deeply enough into Tony DiNozzo's personal life (frankly he was surprised McGee had ventured this far) since he began typing at his computer with his usual intensity.

"Just as long as you know what you're getting yourself into…"

"McGee!"

* * *

A/N: I love when Tony and McGee have a brotherly relationship that doesn't make Tony look like a preening idiot. I hope the banter is believable.

Any mention of breakfast burritos where written before _Loose Cannons_ aired. I think the writers of NCIS are hacking my brain, or turning to fanfiction for ideas.

Holistic Lying is not a term I created. I credit an individual from a local Alzheimer nursing home, although I don't know if they coined it. I have purloined it for my own nefarious uses.

According to some brief research, courtesy of Google, Michael Swango was a licensed physician, who poisoned non-patients by putting arsenic in their food and drinks. It's slightly disturbing how quickly 'killer who used poison' pops up in Google search.


	7. Let's Pretend We're Normal

A/N: Been working on this for a long, long time. I have no excuses except reading fanfiction is a lot easier than writing it and I win at procrastination.

Let me preface this chapter by saying I have never been to D.C. or The Phillips Collection Museum and I have taken certain liberties with hours, layout and what not. That being said, I have looked at the website quite extensively and some of the art mentioned actually is exhibited in this museum. I actually take a lot of liberties in this chapter.

Obviously this also disregards just about everything that happened in the season 13 finale (yeah it's been that long) which was great but kind of messes with the whole premise of this fic. *Spoilers ahead for those who haven't seen the finale and wish to at some point*

For the record, I didn't want Ziva dead. I doubt Tony could carry on a fledgling relationship with anyone if he found out Ziva had died and he had a daughter.

*End of spoilers*

Disclaimer: I have one more college loan, any takers?

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, favorited, read. I'm so happy that people are enjoying this and sticking with me despite my unpredictable posting.

 _Paige: Not sure if a Jeanne/Tony ending would have gone over better or worse than Ziva dying (if you haven't noticed there's a lot of dislike for Jeanne/Scottie Thompson). I thought for the time they were together that Jeanne and Tony had a fairly stable and adult relationship (again nothing against Ziva) and it would have been nice to see something more play out without Jeanne getting hurt again or Tony having feelings for a married woman._

 _TheNaggingCube: Thanks, although I love angst, drama, and romance I'm finding that it's much easier to do humor._

 _VG LittleBear: Glad you liked it. I tried to find a balance so neither Tony or Tim comes off as idiotic or perfect since they both have their strengths and flaws._

This chapter got kind of out of control, but I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Let's Pretend we're Normal

By Tuesday McGee's twitching and suspiciously nonchalant demeanor had mostly subsided as it became obvious that the world was not about to implode with Gibbs' anger and he apparently remembered that he was a highly trained federal agent. At the very least he'd stopped giving Tony shifty looks when he though no one else was looking, which was of great relief as Tony had started getting odd looks from other agents in return.

No one else seemed to have caught on to Anthony DiNozzo's latest escapades, a simultaneously freeing and worrying prospect, if one considered the usual time it took for gossip to circulate the pumpkin spiced walls of NCIS. Not even Gibbs with his all-knowing gut showed signs of suspicion as he sat, ill-tempered, at his desk and jabbed at his keyboard as though it had offended him somehow.

They'd closed their latest case earlier that day which left them with the usual reports they'd all filled out a thousand times before. It didn't stop Gibbs from throwing out the occasional order to get to work or type faster. Tony ignored it; he was used to Gibbs' increasingly mercurial temperament and he better uses for his energy then going up against his cranky team leader.

At a quarter to five Tony glanced at his watch, heaved a sigh and quietly approached Gibbs desk, attempting a confident air he didn't quite feel. It was a full ten seconds before Gibbs acknowledged his presence with a sighed,

"DiNozzo?"

"Gotta leave by 5:30 today, Gibbs." He said, ignoring Gibbs' barely concealed eye roll. As long as he finished his share of the paperwork there wasn't much left to do and it wasn't like he didn't have about a year's worth of comp time to use at his discretion.

"Why?" Gibbs asked in a thoroughly disinterested tone.

"Doctor's appointment." Tony answered glibly. He almost could hear McGee's head snap up and he didn't need to look to feel the daggers burrowing into the back of his head. Gibbs grunted his response.

"Next time fill out the paperwork." Tony nodded agreeably.

"It was kind of a last minute thing, but next time I have to see my doctor I'll totally do that." He babbled earning a low groan from behind him.

"Something wrong, Tim?" Gibbs asked, concern coloring his voice. A second strangled noise emerged and McGee choked out a 'fine, Boss'. Tony gave a final cheerful nod. As he settled back behind his desk he caught Tim's eyes who shot him a look that was mostly disbelieving but also had a hint of admiration.

"DiNozzo, you are insane." He muttered. "Hope you enjoy your appointment." Though the words were barely above a whisper and said with a hint of derision, Tony find himself smiling nonetheless at his reluctant coconspirator.

* * *

Dinner was not intended to be an extravagant affair. Although Tony had considered booking one of the many five-star, six-month-waiting-list restaurants that D.C. had to offer he vetoed that idea in favor of something simpler which was why he and Jeanne were currently strolling along a nicely lit sidewalk, edged with empty flowerbeds and an eclectic mix of small, privately owned restaurants.

Jeanne's arm was loosely tucked into his elbow as she peered at the brightly colored doors and windows with apparent interest.

"This was not what I was expecting when you said dinner." She commented, craning her neck to get a better look at a menu that advertised 'real' ostrich eggs. "I don't think I've ever been to this part of town before. Where exactly are you taking me, Tony?"

"It's called "Die Burg". The best way I can think to describe it is German inspired food meets Baroque décor. Jeanne raised her eyebrows at that. "I'm not kidding. But the things they do with potatoes makes it all worthwhile." Tony assured her. The intricate décor lining every spare inch of wall had alarmed him at first, but he'd quickly been won over by the chefs heavenly creations.

"I'm surprised we're not having lasagna." Jeanne said, earning a frown from Tony.

"Did you want lasagna?" Tony asked, slightly confused. Jeanne smiled a little and shook her head.

"You gave a fifteen minute speech about the merits of lasagna the other night. Said it was the only true food out there and only an idiot would disagree." Tony felt a wave of heat creeping up from his collar and faked a cough. Although Jeanne was doing an admirable job of not laughing at his plight, she couldn't hold back a small giggle.

"Yeah, that does sound an awful lot like me, although I'm kinda surprised I wasn't talking about pizza."

"You insisted that there was nothing like 'noodles smothered in a blanket of cheese, covered in a cloak of sauce and baked to perfection', if I'm remembering correctly." Jeanne finished, allowing a previously well-contained chuckle to escape. Tony pressed his thumb and forefinger against his closed eyes.

"Oh god, what are the chances you'll forget most of that and we can go back to pretending that I'm normal human being with a normal level of interest in cheese?" He was mostly joking, but there was still something humiliating about having no memory of what he'd done or said that evening. Surprisingly he felt a set of fingers gently brush against the side of his head before Jeanne whispered in his ear.

"I gave up hope on that a long time ago. Besides, I found out that normal gets old really fast." Jeanne swept her fingers down his cheek once more.

"Was this before or after the corgi reenactment?" Tony felt the urge to ask despite the warm feeling that Jeanne's voice had created in the pit of his stomach.

"Both, actually. You seemed concerned that I didn't understand the importance of lasagna."

"So, anyway the braised beef tips are really good and did I mention the potatoes?" Tony offered amidst Jeanne's renewed snickering. "And then, if you're nice to me, I thought we could check out the Phillip's Collection museum. It's about twenty minutes from here, so if you're feeling up to it we can probably get there before it closes."

"An art museum?" Jeanne repeated.

"Yeah, I figured we could pretend to be sophisticated and throw around words like 'neo-modernism' and 'negative space'." Jeanne roughly pulled her arm from his, making him stumble a little over a crack in the cement. "Hey, you lose a shoe or something?" He asked, not expecting to see her wearing a furious expression.

"Really, Tony?" Tony laughed. It was probably, no make that definitely, the wrong response, but he was almost certain he hadn't said or done anything wrong in the last two minutes. "An art museum?"

"Uh, yes…is there something else I'm supposed to be saying here because I'm obviously seriously challenged mentally speaking and could use some help." Jeanne shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together as though she couldn't quite find the words to express the depth of his mistake. He was used to seeing that expression, but he usually had some idea what he'd done to inspire it.

"You said we'd be honest with each other from now on yet you used your resources to find out personal information about me. How did you think that was going to make me feel?" He let out another incredulous laugh.

"Jeanne, I don't know what you're talking about." He insisted.

"So you just got lucky and happened to choose an art museum that just happens to have a large collection of impressionistic art." Jeanne hissed. Without waiting for a reply she spun around and started walking away as quickly as her high heels would allow.

"Hey!" Tony shouted, breaking into a light jog and grasping at Jeanne's wrist with the tip of his fingers. He gently tugged her to a halt and brought her around to face him once again. "You didn't let me even try to explain."

"Tony, there's not much to explain." He felt his heart tapping out a funeral march, his stomach tightening as the urge to panic and run or shout something he'd never be able to retract fought for dominance, but he tamped it down with a short intake of breath. Carefully gathering her other hand so both were between his much larger ones, he pressed them against his chest. She let out a shaky breath but didn't try to move away.

"Fine." She bit out in a slightly wavering voice. Keeping his hands cupped around hers he gently nudged her farther to the side so a curious couple could pass.

"Despite what past events might suggest, I have not used any means, nefarious or otherwise, to investigate you since you came back. To be honest I didn't do it the first time around. I was given a file on you but I only read the first page."

"Then how did you know?" Jeanne whispered.

"I didn't, swear I didn't." Tony assured her, still uncertain why it was such a big deal. "It just seemed like something you'd enjoy." Before he could say anything else Jeanne tugged her hand free and pressed it against his lips.

"Do you promise? I don't think I could take it if I found out you were lying to me again." Jeanne whispered. His heart stuttered. Never before had he hated Tony DiNardo more than he did in this moment. During their relatively brief relationship he couldn't recall Jeanne ever being so cynical or uncertain.

"I promise." Tony murmured back fervently. Under the pretense of turning her head, Jeanne swiped a finger beneath her nose. Without thinking Tony pulled her into arms and cupped his palm loosely around the back of her head, careful not to muss her hair too terribly.

"Hey, I swear I will do my very best to never intentionally hurt you again. Now, I can't promise I won't ever make you angry because I'm gonna do some stupid things, that's just a given but I will not lie to you." Jeanne laughed wetly, her hands going to fist in the sides of Tony's jacket.

"I won't argue with you about that, although I think you're a lot smarter than you let on. And…" She paused to suck in a deep breath. "I'm sorry that I accused you of being dishonest. It's actually really sweet that you thought of Phillip's." Tony pressed a kiss to the top of her head before slowly releasing her.

"It's ok, I probably deserved it." He assured her. Reclaiming Jeanne's hand, they resumed their stroll down the sidewalk. "Now, if we hurry we can still get a good table."

"You still want to go out tonight?" Jeanne questioned incredulously.

"If we don't eat every time you get mad at me we might starve." Tony said quite earnestly. "Besides, did I mention they have potatoes?"

* * *

Sometime later when they were both pleasantly filled with a combination of braised beef tips, potatoes (Tony was insistent) and roasted vegetables, Tony voiced a question that had been nagging at him.

"Jeanne, why didn't I know that you like art?" Rather than look surprised by his question Jeanne flushed and fiddled with the edge of her napkin. "I mean, other than a few notable exceptions you weren't too reserved about personal details."

"It's so stupid, Tony…it's just something I haven't told anyone about in years."

"Ok, unless you were an art thief in another life, I think I can handle it. C'mon tell me and I'll buy you a piece of Leslie's lemon cheesecake which is to die for."

"You are so weird." Jeanne said, rolling her eyes. "Ok, but you can't laugh at me. When I was really little, maybe four or five, my dad started taking me to art museums. At first I hated it, I thought it was so boring when all the other girls I knew were picking out life-sized dolls or watching Disney movies. But after a couple years I realized that I got to spend a whole afternoon with my dad without my mom or anyone else interrupting us and he'd pretty much let me do anything I wanted." Tony nodded encouragingly while he pictured a miniature Jeanne running riot in the Louvre while an indulgent Rene Benoit trailed behind.

"By the time I was ten I loved art and started begging dad to take me to the museum whenever he was home, even thought my mom hated it. They were divorced by then and she couldn't stand that I loved something he'd introduced me to." She paused to take a drink of water, her expression distant as she reminisced.

"That doesn't sound so bad, aside from your mom hating your dad." Tony observed. His own shared activities with Senior, few and far between, left a lot to be desired and he found himself oddly jealous of Jeanne's relationship with her father. "So that wonderful first meeting wasn't just for my benefit, she's like that all the time?" Tony asked, striving to keep his tone light. Jeanne sighed knowingly and lifted one hand in a forestalling gesture.

"No, she wasn't treating you any differently than she's treated the rest of my boyfriends. And that story is going to take a lot more time and wine than we have right now." Tony nodded, not pushing a subject that was obviously still sore.

"Anyway, museums were my thing with dad. If he took me to a different state, occasionally a different country, we had to visit at least one museum there. I never thought it was strange, special definitely, but nothing extraordinary. I mean I went to private school straight through high school and most of the kids went to Jamaica or Hawaii several times a year." Tony listened avidly, not that surprised that she'd had a privileged upbringing; it was evident in the nice apartment and lack of overwhelming student loans straight out of med school. He understood though, he'd been among those very rich kids for a good part of his life, even been one of them at times. It was a bit of a shock the first time you realized not everyone lived in a mansion or had servants.

"It wasn't until I started college and I was around a lot more people from different backgrounds that I realized I wasn't so normal. I got pretty used to people treating me differently and I think I handled it pretty well until this guy I was dating found out I'd had an all access pass to the Smithsonian since I was eight and he called me a princess. I was planning on just ignoring it but then he asked why I was going to college, I obviously had enough money that I'd never have to work." Tony chuckled darkly which earned him an appreciative look from Jeanne. Jeanne might have been privileged but she definitely wasn't a princess and he knew she worked very hard to dispel that image.

"And is the man still alive with fully functioning parts?" He teased. Jeanne nudged him playfully and stole one of the remaining potatoes from his plate, ignoring his protesting exclamation.

"Yes, he is alive and well as far as I know, I don't think the same can be said for his limited edition Killers t-shirt though." She said nonchalantly. Tony wasn't quite sure how she managed to look graceful as she popped an entire new potato in her mouth, but she did.

"Ooh, let me guess…red wine?"

"Tomato sauce, actually."

"Nice." Tony said, appreciatively. "But you know the guy was an idiot, right?"

"Yes, he was but he was also right a little bit too. My background wasn't exactly full of hardships. So there were a few things that I, perhaps foolishly, hid to make myself seem a little less privileged, a little more approachable. I don't know if it worked but it made me feel less guilty." Tony frowned.

"But why did you keep it from me? Did I give you the impression I would judge you for something like that?" Even as he worked to keep his tone light he felt a hint of doubt. He'd worked hard to make Tony DiNozzo a less harsh version of himself, without the judgement and unkindness that sometimes plagued him.

"No, you were great about everything…which was part of the problem. I liked you so much that I didn't want there to be any chance you'd ridicule what I was most self-conscious about." Jeanne explained hastily, obviously realizing Tony was taking her words personally.

"And how do you feel about that now?" Tony asked softly. Reaching across the small space between them Jeanne carefully took his hand in hers.

"I still like you, maybe more than I did then, and I don't want to hide anything else from you. Even if telling you causes me extreme embarrassment." Tony's face creased with a slow, happy smile. He gave Jeanne's hand a tug even though there was less than a foot of space between them and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek. Rather than moving away as he'd expected, Jeanne leant into his touch, her cheek brushing the length of his nose once, twice, before moving back ever so slightly.

"And just so you know, I will never ridicule you, tease incessantly, yes, but never ridicule." Tony assured her, his voice achingly sincere.

* * *

They made it to the Phillip's museum just as the attendant was closing down her station. Tony smiled genially as he fished out his credit card and she lost her less than pleased expression, directing them to the open exhibits with a mostly sincere smile of her own. Jeanne snickered for a few moments over Tony's blatant use of charm which he insisted what simply common courtesy.

"I was just being nice. It's not my fault she's a sucker for killer good looks." Tony said, pausing by a conveniently placed ornate mirror to preen. .

"Uh-huh, is that why you winked?" Jeanne said as she led them past a collection of Renaissance art to an upper wing

"I have a twitchy eye." Tony replied absently, his head tilted at a ridiculous angle while he squinted at a blurry painting. "Are those birds?" Frowning, Jeanne took a few steps back and narrowed her own eyes. Tony moved closer so he was less than six inches away. "Definitely birds." He confirmed.

"It's called _Can Can_ , Tony."

"Birds doing the Can-Can, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that's a little strange." A woman with a knitted hat that covered most of her forehead who'd been drifting between a painting of a sunset and what looked like a poorly formed rhinoceros shot Tony an incredulous and slightly disgusted look. He waved brightly and she adjusted her long coat, swinging her overlarge handbag dangerously close to a glass display case as her cheeks tinged an interesting shade of reddish-purple.

"You're terrible." Jeanne observed, biting back a smirk as the woman scurried behind a randomly placed statue on the other side of the room.

"You'd think she painted the thing herself." His comment was followed by a brief glance at the accompanying placard by both of them.

"Well unless she's visiting us from the great beyond, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say she's just a snob who thinks that even pictures of Campbell's soup are full of hidden meaning." He hooked his thumb in the direction of the still skulking woman.

"Actually they represent the materialistic nature of our present culture and the shift from an agrarian society to an industrial society and the negative impact it has on the individual." Tony fumbled momentarily, flummoxed by Jeanne's apparent appreciation for Warhol's artwork but he rallied quickly.

"Well, I guess if you think about it they might have some meaning and they certainly are realistic and…bright." His voice trailed off as he tried to think of something else positive to say about a painting of a red and white can. If that was the kind of thing that Jeanne considered art then maybe he understood why she wanted to keep it quiet.

Pulling him from his worried introspection, Jeanne gently grasped his arm and turned him away from the dancing birds to face her.

"Tony, I'm joking." She assured him.

"Oh, thank god." Tony breathed gratefully. "That shade of red would totally clash with my décor." Jeanne meanwhile was wearing a disgusted expression.

"You really think I find pictures of cheap soup illuminating?" She asked incredulously. "I had a Monet reproduction hanging in my apartment."

"You know, all this teasing is cruel and uncalled for." Tony protested and attempted his most distraught face which Jeanne merely rolled her eyes at. He leaned close to Jeanne because the nosy woman was lurking nearby again, not particularly minding that it brought him in close proximity to her loosely curled hair. It smelled like something light and slightly flowery, different from the scent he vaguely remembered her wearing but no less appealing.

"Oh, you just wait 'til we get back Doctor, I have all eight seasons of Magnum P.I. on DVD, collector's edition. I'd say we can get through at least one disc tonight." Jeanne frowned at this apparent threat and cast a glance at her watch.

"Tony, it's nearly 8:30, by the time we–" Tony grabbed her hand, linking their fingers together and cutting of her protest.

"Which is why we should leave soon, but first let's check out that one of the melting donkey." Tony said, dragging a slightly off-balance Jeanne after him.

* * *

They were chased away from the melting donkey, which was supposedly a warrior of some sort, fairly quickly. A different and far less agreeable curator than the one at the admissions desk shooed Jeanne and Tony away with a stern admonition that it was five minutes past the closing time.

"I don't remember you having an animal fixation when we were together." Jeanne commented as they walked out into the brisk night air. It had been warmer earlier, reaching an almost spring-like forty degrees but had dropped back down to a temperature more appropriate for December.

"I like to think of it as my own creative interpretation of reality." Tony answered loftily, noting that Jeanne had her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. Though she was wearing a coat, it most likely hadn't been intended for extended walks in twenty-some degree weather. He paused and slipped his own coat off and then his suit jacket, handing it to Jeanne before he added, "You can imagine what my college art teacher thought of me."

Taking the jacket with a smirk, she shrugged it on, the hem hanging down to just above her knees. "I thought you studied physical education, what were you doing in an art class?" Tony might have taken offense at the assumption if it weren't so true. He distinctly remembered laughing incredulously when his advisor suggested the class.

"I was a freshman and I needed a Liberal Arts elective and it seemed better than political science. Besides, I was promised there would be nude models." They started wending their way once more through the mostly deserted sidewalk. The frigid breeze seemed to have sent most people inside so they were walking at a more leisurely pace.

"And were there?"

"Nude models? Nah, though there was the faculty Christmas party where I hear out teacher got a little frisky and tried to pose for the Assistant Dean." Tony said, affecting a light shudder at the memory.

"Did you enjoy it? The art class I mean, not your teacher." At Tony's inquisitive expression she hastily added, "You were very believable as a films professor which is a little difficult to reconcile with you actually being in law enforcement…I just wondered if you were pulling from any real life experience." Tony forced his mind back to when he was coping with the heady and slightly terrifying combination of complete independence.

"A lot of it's blurred together but if I remember correctly Mrs. Leonard couldn't stand me, mostly because I didn't put any stock in the idea that anything could be art." Tony explained. "It probably didn't help that my exhibits sucked and then there was that incident with the stick figures."

"Sounds like you were a model student." An amused Jeanne noted as they approached the parking garage containing where Tony parked his car.

"Hey, I got an A+ in History of Cinema and I was the only student who wasn't an Arts Major."

"So Professor DiNardo was actually partially based on reality?"

"Where do you think that thesis I showed you came from?" Tony replied somewhat haughtily. It was probably the first time either of them had made as reference to his alias without any tension or an argument breaking out. "Besides, I've always watched a lot of movies, it wasn't much of a stretch. I could talk film theory in my sleep."

"Wait." Jeanne said, bringing up a hand and making Tony stop in his tracks halfway up a flight of stairs, instantly on alert.

"What?" He hissed, thinking that it would be just his luck to end the night with an armed robbery.

"You wrote that paper as an undergrad? It was over a hundred pages long." Instantly he relaxed and shrugged his shoulders in the face of Jeanne's astonishment.

"Well, I tweaked it a little before you read it, but basically."

"That's incredible." Jeanne murmured. "None of my undergrad classes required anything of that length, and I had to participate in medical studies."

"It may have a gotten just a little bit out of hand." Tony admitted sheepishly. He felt silly for unknown reasons; normally he'd love the chance to discuss movies with a willing participant, but something about the awe in Jeanne's voice was making him uncomfortable.

"So, in between grueling football practices and a full academic caseload, you found the time to write your epic thesis, _The Golden Age of Film: Bogart, Bacall, and Bergman_?"

"I don't know, like I said, it wasn't that hard." Tony searched for some way to describe the feeling of ease, the sense of comfort that came from movies. It wasn't as though he could go into in depth cinematic analysis with his college friends, who put up with him babbling about the latest Bond but would never understand his fascination with black and white film. "It was almost like a release, I guess. Something I couldn't really find in the rest of my classes or in sports. I was a jock, I wanted that image, you know, it wasn't like it was forced on me, but it didn't really give me much room to express myself."

They were standing beside his car now and though the wind was whipping through the open spaces of the garage, chilling any uncovered bit of skin neither of them attempted to seek shelter. Jeanne was staring at him with a fond expression that simultaneously made him want to squirm and sent a soft warmth through his stomach. It wasn't often that he chose to, or even felt comfortable enough to share something that left him vulnerable and so very open to ridicule.

Coming to lean against the hood of the car so Tony was standing in front and slightly above her, Jeanne reached for his hand again. He could definitely get used to that.

"For the record, I think you would have made an excellent teacher." Tony snorted at that which elicited a frown and a sharp squeeze from the woman across from him. "I mean it." She insisted. Still smiling at what he found to be a thoroughly amusing idea, Tony released Jeanne's hand in favor of finding his own seat against the dark paint of his car and swung an arm around her shoulders.

"Jeanne, I'd probably be the first teacher who got reported for being disruptive. Seriously, putting me in a roomful of anyone under the age of 25 and making me responsible for a part of their education would be a terrible idea."

"Tony, I'm not joking, your passion shows in your writing and I don't think it would be that difficult for you to funnel that passion into something else. I'm sure your imaginary students would be lucky to have you. So, I guess I'm saying if this whole Federal Agent thing doesn't work out, you can always give Professor DiNardo another try." Jeanne's voice, which had started out strong and assured, was so low when she finished that Tony had to lean down in order to hear her.

Even if he thought it was ludicrous, he couldn't help feeling a little touched. The overwhelming opinion when Tony DiNardo's chosen profession came to light was 'what the hell had Jenny been thinking?' and for the most part Tony had agreed with them. His cover job was good only so long as Jeanne never dug too deeply into his lesson plans or asked to sit in on one of his classes.

"Well" Tony began in a voice that came out a little less flippant than he intended, "on behalf of my non-existent students, I thank you." A sudden gust of wind had him ending on a shiver. "And on that note, I think it's high time I got you home, Dr. Benoit."

* * *

A/N: So, there it is. Leave your love or hate or questions in a review. Let me assure that while this chapter was a lot less angsty than the rest, the drama is not over yet. There's still a lot for Tony and Jeanne to work out, I just thought they deserved a slight reprieve.


	8. We Need to Talk

A/N: Hey, I'm back again! Let the raucous laughter and celebratory gunfire begin! The last few months have been a little crazy, but pretty awesome. I got a temporary promotion subbing for someone who is on maternity leave which means I get to actually do what I was trained for and I get paid about three times as much as before.

Anyways, here's the next chapter which finally includes a bit of Gibbs. Hopefully this chapter meshes well with the rest as it kind of deviates from the previous few parts.

 _Huskerfan:_ Hey there, I'm honored to be your first NCIS fic. Hope your opinion of Jeanne and this story doesn't change too much as you read more.

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed the last chapter, I hope this latest installment pleases. Also thanks to everyone who faved, followed or just read. It means a lot.

* * *

We Need to Talk

Tony stepped out of the elevator, one hand balancing a tray of steaming coffees and the other occupied with typing out the last few words of a text to Jeanne. She'd invited him over for dinner a few days ago, with the promise of a home cooked meal. As far as he knew Jeanne's cooking skills typically involved prepackaged food, microwaves and a pan if absolutely necessary. Still, he wasn't about to say no. The last couple weeks had been somewhat strained with no apparent reasoning behind it. Jeanne was quiet, almost repressed at times and unusually complacent which had Tony's radar on full alert.

Slipping his phone into the front pocket of his shirt, Tony swung his backpack next to his desk and began distributing the team's next dose of caffeine.

"McGee, you look like death." he observed as he handed Tim his skim milk latte and took the opportunity to peer at the other man's greyish complexion and bloodshot eyes. "You been up this whole time?"

"And good morning to you too, Tony. Of course, I've been up all night. Gibbs wanted me ready in case we got clearance to see that email." Tony sighed sympathetically in response to McGee's explanation, the latter half of which was mumbled as though he didn't have the energy to keep up a normal rate of speech. He wasn't sure why Gibbs was even making a stink over this case given that it was barely linked to the military.

"You should go home then." he suggested easily, glancing up briefly as he turned on his computer and looked over his inbox. "We can manage without you for a few hours. Right Ellie?" Tony addressed the last part to an unsuspecting Bishop who looked thrown off-guard.

"Uh, sure." she said hesitantly. "What exactly am I agreeing to? We're not sending Gibbs another crate of mini sailboats filled with bourbon, right?" Tony waved his hand dismissively.

"Nah, I don't think you could withstand another round of glares. You'd crack for sure."

"Hey!"

"Anyway, we're giving the McServer a break so he doesn't implode." he continued smoothly.

"You know I'm feeling less grateful." Tim commented dryly.

"Tony's right, you should go home. We can cover anything that comes up." Ellie said with her usual earnestness.

"Even Gibbs?" McGee asked halfheartedly.

"It's not like we're going to get this case so we'll probably be doing cold cases and paperwork for the rest of the day." Tony said. No matter Gibbs' ability to intimidate, he knew there was no way Fornell would hand over a case that had minimal military involvement. At best they would be called in to consult or as backup.

"True, but he's in one of his moods so be careful." McGee warned as he shoved a spare thumb drive and a couple of pens into his backpack. Tony resisted the urge to snort, wondering when Gibbs was ever not in one of his moods.

"Thanks for the heads up. Now go before Palmer decides to practice his embalming skills on you." Tony urged with a wave in the general direction of the elevator. McGee extended a lackluster middle finger while he picked up his backpack and started shuffling out amidst Tony and Ellie's chuckles.

Half an hour later Gibbs stalked down from MTAC, lips drawn thin and eyes narrowed in a way that never failed to remind Tony of an aging hawk.

"We get the case?" he asked.

"What do you think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs snapped. He glanced around, eyes landing on the still-warm cup of coffee on his desk and after taking a healthy gulp he appeared slightly mollified.

"We've been given restricted access." he drawled with distaste while he jiggled his mouse and shoved a pile of completed incident reports on top of a stack of budget requests. "Where's McGee?"

"Sent him home." Tony offered casually. He figured if he didn't make it a big deal there was just the slightest possibility that Gibbs would suffer a sudden lack of curiosity.

"Is he sick?" Gibbs asked with mild concern.

"Nope, just exhausted." Tony answered in the same easy tone, but he paused to give Gibbs a pointed look. For a moment he saw something in the other man's eyes that might have been surprise or even admiration but it was gone the next second and instantly replaced by a look of cold fury intended to intimidate lesser beings.

"DiNozzo, you should have asked me." Gibbs snapped with the same tone of voice an adult might use with a misbehaving child.

"You were busy and McGee's server was two seconds from a meltdown." Tony explained reasonably. He knew the purposefully light, jokester voice would only enrage Gibbs further but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"You think this is funny?" Gibbs growled, pushing himself to his feet and leaning over his desk in the same position he used to interrogate suspects. Raising an eyebrow, Tony watched the display with mild disinterest though inside a small ball of anger was steadily growing.

"No, I saw a problem and I dealt with it. You know, it you want to be technical about it I was the highest ranking officer present at the time." Gibbs smacked his hand against the top of his desk, making a sharp, painful sound and inadvertently knocking a spare coffee mug to the ground. Across the room he saw Ellie jump slightly and with a brief glance he saw she wore a mildly concerned expression. She'd gotten used to Gibbs' surly attitude, but had less experience with his temper tantrums. As he turned his attention back to Gibbs, she discreetly scurried several feet away.

He'd almost forgotten that there were other people present and with that in mind he closed the distance between them. Apparently Gibbs had noticed the audience as well since he shoved his chair back with a little more force than absolutely necessary and jerked his head towards the elevator.

"With me DiNozzo." he bit out, stalking off before Tony could protest. Bishop watched them closely, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. Shrugging innocently, Tony spun around and jogged a few steps to catch up with Gibbs who had continued past the elevator which was apparently in use.

Gibbs opened the first conference room they came to with a quick jerk of his hand. Fortunately it was empty, although Tony knew Gibbs would have no problem relieving it of any occupants.

"What the hell are you trying to pull, DiNozzo?" he asked, shoving the door closed with a movement reminiscent of a headslap. Just in case he got any ideas, Tony moved to the far end of the table and settled into one of the high-backed chairs before answering.

"I'm not pulling anything, Gibbs. I told you, McGee was tired and I didn't think he needed to sit through eight more hours of paperwork. If we get a case, we can always call him back in."

"So this was just another chance for you to pull rank, huh? Get one more chance to be in charge?" Tony shook his head, letting out a humorous laugh so he wouldn't grab hold of the infuriating man before him and attempt to shake some sense into him.

"Maybe if you weren't so busy charging after every red flag you see I wouldn't have had to step in." he said, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed be the calm one here. "There was no reason for McGee to be here all night. You know it, just as much as you know that I'm not trying to undermine your authority."

"You were out of line." Gibbs argued.

"Matter of opinion." Tony replied obstinately.

"If you want your own team, DiNozzo–"

"You still think that's what this about?" Tony asked incredulously, not even caring that he'd cut Gibbs off mid-sentence. "If I really wanted my own team all I'd have to do is ask, Gibbs. I've had lots of offers yet I'm still here. And for the record, I'm not trying to oust you either. It's nice to know you think so highly of me though."

"DiNozzo…" Gibbs said with a long-suffering sigh.

"Don't DiNozzo me! Every member of this team has put up with your crap for years and you know we don't have to. All of us could be doing something better, something higher paid and where we're actually get the respect we deserve." As he spoke, Tony got to his feet and casually strolled over to Gibbs who for once was floundering for a response. A very tiny part of Tony relished that he could read Gibbs so well, but there was a larger part that regretted how accurate his assessment was. He'd really thought that deep down Gibbs respected and trusted him.

"And maybe that's what scares you so much, why you're so damn paranoid about any of us taking initiative; you're afraid that we'll abandon you. That just maybe we're good enough to be on our own or replace you." He continued quietly. If Gibbs had appeared worried before, he looked downright pissed now as he pushed past Tony and muttered,

"DiNozzo I don't have time for this." Tony grabbed hold of Gibbs' upper arm, loosely enough that if he'd wanted the older man could have pulled free.

"If you keep pushing us away, eventually you will lose us. Bishop and McGee might not have reached their limits yet, but just give it a few years and you won't have to worry about any of us vying for your job cause we won't be here." Gibbs jerked away as though he'd been burned, tore the conference room door open, and stormed from the room.

"Grab your gear, Bishop." he snapped when he was about five feet from the bullpen. He didn't bother to grab his gun and Tony wondered if he even had a legitimate place to go. Ellie shot Tony an apologetic look as she hurried to grab her back pack, badge and weapon as well as Gibbs'. He smiled briefly, hoping she understood that he didn't blame her for being the favorite at the moment.

He wasn't entirely sure were his whole diatribe had come from. Well, that wasn't exactly true; it had been brewing in some form for years but he didn't know why he'd decided today was the moment for it to all come spewing out.

Tony spent the rest of the day filling out reports and playing gopher for Gibbs via shortly worded texts from Bishop. They weren't called in for another case and as expected, the FBI didn't request their assistance aside from handling interviews. When Bishop and Gibbs returned at a quarter to five, the latter looking as surly as ever, Gibbs sent him home with a few terse words. Rather than taking it for the punishment it was meant to be, Tony gladly packed up, relieved that he wouldn't have to spend another minute in the stifling atmosphere.

McGee hadn't returned which Tony figured meant he'd most likely crashed the moment he'd gotten home and wouldn't be resurfacing for the next 12 hours or so. It was just as well since McGee would hold himself responsible and this time at least, Tony had absolutely no desire for Tim to feel any guilt.

He'd also have enough time to go home and straighten up a little before heading to Jeanne's. His unresolved confrontation with Gibbs had left him feeling argumentative and eager to deal with whatever was going on with Jeanne. Perhaps it wasn't the best timing considering his current mood but he knew things would just fester the way they had with Gibbs if he didn't do something soon.

* * *

Tony arrived at Jeanne's apartment at seven as requested, a canvas bag containing a bottle each of pinot grigio and chardonnay in one hand. Jeanne had been just as insistent about him not knowing the menu for tonight as she had been about cooking for him in the first place so he figured he'd play it safe and brings wines that would be enjoyable even if they didn't pair well with the meal.

Jeanne answered the door in a scoop necked blue dress that came to about mid-knee and wrapped tightly around her waist before flaring slightly. A faint garlic scent wafted out after her and Tony's hopes for the meal brightened considerably.

"Tony, hi, come in." she said with a slight smile, moving aside so he could enter. "I thought you said you wouldn't have time to change before coming." she added and nodded to his obviously freshly shaved jaw and pressed shirt.

"Ah, got let out early for bad behavior." Tony joked.

"I'm pretty sure that's not right. And what did you do that was so bad you got sent home?" Tony hummed noncommittally, taking hold of Jeanne's hand and pulling her into the closest room to the door which happily enough appeared to be the den.

"I'd rather not say, but I did bring a housewarming gift if that helps." he said, skirting the issue. Jeanne accepted the chardonnay with a grateful nod.

"Well, that sounds ominous. Should I be looking through the want ads?" Tony was fairly certain he was still employed, but one never knew with Gibbs.

"I think it's just a suspension for now, but I'll keep you posted. Now what smells delicious?" Jeanne accepted his segue with a roll of her eyes and directed him to the dining room with a light push.

"It's shrimp scampi and there are wine glasses on the table." she said then headed for what Tony assumed was the kitchen.

After taking a brief glance around, Tony grabbed the red wine, popped the cork and poured a glass for each of them. Giving in to his curiosity, he rounded the half wall that separated the two rooms and started exploring the series of picture frames that were featured on the walls and side tables. For the most part Jeanne seemed to have a minimalistic approach to decorating, but the pictures were obviously of great import. He bent over a frame that held two photos just as his phone buzzed twice.

"Those were taken during my first internship; first and last day. I think 11 of us made it through." Jeanne offered quietly from behind him. He turned slowly, not wanting to give the impression he'd snooping unduly.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you look incredibly young." he said. Jeanne chuckled softly, waving a hand at Tony's couched apology and came to stand beside him, cocking her head slightly as she considered the photos.

"In some ways I suppose I was. Naturally I thought I had everything figured out which meant I made a lot stupid mistakes. But you shouldn't worry, Tony, both of those pictures were taken years before I met you." Tony frowned at that, not entirely sure if it was meant to be admonishment. It almost sounded like an apology or a pardon of some sort. Taking a step closer he peered at Jeanne for a long moment. At first glance she seemed calm and at ease but there was something wrong about the almost perfect set of everything. Something was just a little off again.

"Is everything ok?" he asked, foregoing to the desire to just let things be and enjoy the evening.

"Of course, Tony. I'm fine, but I doubt the shrimp scampi will survive anymore discussion." Tony narrowed his eyes; someone had definitely been taking deflecting lessons.

There was something oddly intimate about eating in someone's home at a carefully set table that Tony hadn't anticipated. He and Jeanne had never cooked a legitimate meal for the other, mostly relying on elegant restaurants or takeout when their schedules got in the way. Knowing that Jeanne had likely spent hours making sure that this meal was perfect made it that much more significant.

Tony was in the middle of explaining the less sensitive details of a recent case when his phone buzzed again. He'd forgotten the earlier text completely and while he was fairly certain it wasn't from work, he didn't feel comfortable not checking.

"Is it Gibbs?" Jeanne asked as he stared at his phone and Tony fought the bizarre desire to laugh as he stared at the pair of texts from his DiNozzo Senior. God, he almost wished it was Gibbs. He had a feeling the evening was about to come to an abrupt end.

"Ah, no, no…it's actually my Dad." Tony answered reluctantly. Jeanne sucked in a short breath, choking slightly.

"I'm sorry, did you say your dad texted you?" she asked once she'd taken a sip of wine. Tony nodded, finding himself completely unprepared to have this discussion.

"But you told me he was dead." Jeanne said, sounding stunned and looking equal parts confused and hurt.

"I did. When I told you that it was for a very specific reason that wasn't intended to hurt you and I honestly didn't remember it until I saw these texts from my dad." Tony explained earnestly as he watched a series of emotions flicker across Jeanne's face, each too fast to fully identify.

"Ok." she said after what seemed like an eternity, her face clearing of anything but mild interest. "And your mom, is she alive too?"

"No, that part was true. She died when I was a kid." Jeanne nodded several times as though she was having a conversation with herself.

"Jeanne, I know it's difficult to believe–" he started, but Jeanne placed over his hand, bringing him to a halt. He watched as she very carefully linked her fingers with his and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Tony, I don't blame you and I think you've done enough apologizing in the last few weeks. I'm just glad that you told me the truth now." Tony remained silent for a moment, slightly dumbfounded by the lack of reaction.

"I haven't always had a very good relationship with my father." He started again, still feeling the need to explain if only to ease his own sense of guilt. It seemed ridiculous now that he'd forgotten about his very-not-dead father.

Jeanne tugged his hand, cutting him short once more and pulled him to his feet, guiding him to the door. They'd barely eaten any of the apple tart Jeanne had baked, but his appetite had disappeared completely.

"I don't need an explanation, Tony." she snapped, her voice sharpening slightly from the even tone she'd used for the last few minutes. Tony was both relieved and terrified. Jeanne took a small breath and then softly said,

"Go call your dad." Tony resisted the gentle, yet insistent pressure she exuded, certain now that something was very wrong. Jeanne did not let things go without a discussion, it wasn't in her nature. Even if she truly wasn't angry with him, her curiosity wouldn't allow her to stop until she knew the full story.

"Jeanne, my dad can wait, I don't think this talk can."

"We don't need to discuss anything, Tony." Jeanne insisted. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Tony's cheek. "I'll call you." Tony sighed as Jeanne closed the door behind him and barely resisted the urge to hurl his phone against the opposite wall.

"You always have the best timing, don't you dad?"

A/N: The observation that Gibbs looks like a hawk at times comes via my sister who has never watched NCIS but harbors a great dislike for Gibbs.

This chapter was very difficult to write but I think it's important for what will happen in the coming chapters.


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